It's 2 years today since an old friend passed away. It's so hard to believe he's gone. The concept of him not existing somewhere in the world just doesn't feel right.
There are nights when I wake and all I can see is his face. Still. And I wasn't even a part of his life in the last few years. Even so, I am happy to have been a part of his life at one time. And I miss him.
I read the poem I wrote in THIS post often. It helps me remember him the way I last saw him, the way he had his arms outstretched over his shaved head, fingers entwined in the wire fence, watching the boys play softball. I don't know why he wasn't playing that day. But he wasn't. And the kids would run up to him and he would lift them up. And he would tickle them and play with them. He was good like that. I really liked that about him.
I still haven't gone to see his grave. I know I should. I need to. I will. In the meantime, I will read my poem and think of him fondly. I will pray for his dear family for their mourning is on a level beyond what I can, or ever hope to, understand.
I will read. I will pray. I will remember. That's all I know how to do. R.I.P. Clayton.