Alas, my final blog. I believe this is Tim’s baby, and I am stepping down from this post beneath him for now. I need to get my physical and mental health in gear in 2012, and I think it’s best if everything I say to and about David from this point is at his gravesite. No cyberspace middleman anymore—he’s gonna get it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Thank you to everyone that has listened to me.
When I first asked Tim if I could post a blog, I really wanted to release my thoughts and capture both general and specific moments in a time that I shared with both of these dudes. I didn’t know I would drill down deep into the inner workings and feverishly grind the internal gears. The friction is damaging. It brings other aspects of your life to a halt, as you try to snatch the elusive past like a vapor trail flowing through your mind. Try to put it in perspective, as if it could change the course of time and return what was once yours. I now need to capture the present tense, without David… without you, kid.
As a writer, I guess the best thing to do sometimes is write. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Not always that easy though. I have found this to be incredibly difficult… worthwhile, I hope, but incredibly difficult nonetheless. I haven’t posted all that I’ve written—some of it I’ve just swallowed and begrudgingly digested. However, like Tim says- dig it up, let it permeate, then break it down until the vomit swells in your esophagus… then spit it out, dig it up, and break it down again. Break it down to its very last compound, KRS-1. Make it BURN.
I have felt the sting… it stings.
It has never been about me, though, and I’m quite clear on that fact. I think it’s now time to do ME. A novel concept, indeed. Whoever Tim deems worthy to take the torch, I will support. If and when Tim gets audio capability on this spot, I will post the song I wrote for David… I think it is worthy.
When you experience an event like this, it obviously lives inside your being for the rest of your existence. It may appear and fade in and out, but it’s always there. It never goes away. I know this is something Tim and I and everyone else that loved my cuz will deal with forever. I had a great chance to talk to a friend this week who has dealt with a very similar situation that Tim is dealing with. Years later, it still haunts his family. No answers, only questions that will linger like clouds of stale smoke. I have uncovered no answers writing this blog, and I know I never will. Neither will Tim. The genuine hope is that someone whose chips are down reads it and makes an alternate decision. Someone who has no idea who the hell I am will observe how strongly we have expressed the incredible pain and sense of loss that exists. I truly hope that someone out there has read and perhaps jas taken a pause if, in fact, they had some feelings swirling around inside them that they couldn’t grasp.
DON’T DO THIS.
So… I intended to speak about more of our history in the upcoming months: How he would call me up and ask me for “drives”… he never said “ride.” I always found that odd. I would drive the kid everywhere—girlfriends, the mall, practice, games, whatever—always saying, “You’re gonna owe me a lot of rides one day!” I used to drive a two-tone 1984 Chevy Cavalier in those days. It would stall out 20 times on the way to their house on Derby-Milford road. I knew this before I left my house. Never stopped me.
(Sometimes, Tim would call for a ride, and I’d drive out there like a fool, car stalling out every 100 feet. By the time I pulled up, Tim was long gone… someone else got him. Bastard! 🙂 )
I guess David paid me back when he helped me learn how to drive standard… even though he was four years younger. Turkey Hill parking lot… Wwere he drank his first Zima four years earlier. My, my, my…
We used to play one-on-one on this little 5-foot hoop he had at his house. It was mobile, so we would drag it all over the driveway or garage and play ball. I would dunk on him constantly and talk smack all the time, unwilling to let go of my stronghold in the equation. I remember the first time he dunked on me… no word of lie, I doubt few things were ever more exhilarating in his young life. He went nuts, like he was Michael. I remember not being able to contain a smile, but then saying, “Bring it back, punk” or something… that hoop held so many stories… so many games that helped structure the immense scaffolding that was our relationship. When we finally cracked the cork beneath the backboard, it felt like we lost an old friend. He was always a Knicks fan but secretly (at least he thought) loved MJ. I would anguish over the Bulls beating the Knicks and Dave would, too… publicly. But he always loved Jordan. Even went to his camp. I would always remind him of that, even as an adult. When he’d talk about the Knicks, I’d say, “You are really a Bulls fan!” Then he fell in love with LeBron and that was all he wrote… his favorite athlete ever.
There are so many stories. I say that with a smile, knowing I will take him with me forever.
Around 1999, I was working with a younger girl that was supposedly an Indiana Pacer fan. I had never met this girl, knew nothing about her, other than her name. When she tried to talk about the Pacers being better then the Knicks, I immediately gave her one of my “WHAT… you must be crazy”-type of responses. She looked at me and said, “You remind me SO MUCH of someone I went to school with.” I really didn’t care, but I replied, “What school did you go to?” She said, “Amity. You remind me of this kid Dave Price.” My jaw dropped…
I guess I rubbed off… not sure if that’s good or bad. 🙂
I periodically go to his Facebook page and see all the great things that his friends post. Hard to lay off, right? It’s hard not to try to reach him. I see the picture of him and Elaine and can’t believe they are no longer part of my existence. They feel so tangible. Like I could reach out to them through the screen and pull them back into my life. Dust off the cobwebs and get right back to being us.
But, I can’t.
Magnetic…wasn’t he?
I think it’s time now to do ME.
I just got back from a company meeting and a phrase resonated throughout the event. I tried to hold back tears as the words spiraled through me much differently than the rest of the folks attending…
Parvus sed potens.
Small, but Mighty.
Little Lion Man.
Small, but Mighty.
David,
I’ll speak to you in my dreams… I’ll speak to you at the cold slab of rock that resides in my hometown, bearing your name. Directly up the hill from your mother and our grandparents. A piece of rock that should not exist but one that holds the name of an immortal… carried forever in our heart and mind.
I sincerely love you, my brother.
Jason
