A brief post without an image.
I still see him lying beside the road with the bump on his head and his mouth slightly open . In his running clothes and so alone. Under a blue sheet. All by himself.
And I saw that he was gone and I still so wish I could have helped him.
He had smooth hands, soft skinned and deft. He played bass as if it were a part of him.
Now and then, my day begins with that memory. The young policeman driving me through the forest. I think I was babbling foolishly. Some hope that he were merely ill or injured.
Then we came upon the detectives’ car and I saw the blue sheet and hoped he was just being kept warm.
OCHA ! OCHA ! I have now seen my Mother, Sister and Lover dead. I didn’t see my father but I saw the photographs my brother took.
Game over. Some days it seems more than I can actually bear. Some days I am not inclined to continue. Especially with all the earthly work at this end.
I wake up and know that I have papers to fill in and monies to sort and cars to register and house moves to make – when all I can see is Izzy lying beside a dirt road. On his way back to me.
Please send someone to help me. I cannot do this.