Five months ago today was the last time I saw you. It was the afternoon, I was coming back from work and you were backing out of the drive. You looked over at me from your car and gave a strange, little wave. Your face was serious. That is a wave that haunts me along with the memory of your face looking at me. I didn’t know you were saying goodbye.

But, no, you weren’t saying goodbye. I am saying that because I want comfort, be it even false. You never said goodbye. As far as I know, you never left any message. You didn’t tell anyone what you were going to do or why. I can only guess what you were thinking and feeling. That is a subject so painful I have yet to face up to it fully. My thoughts invariably veer away in fear. I always wanted to protect you. Your death and the hours leading up to it were just my final, spectacular failure.

In these five months I have crossed into to a new land. It is a land of emptiness, tiredness, and more than anything, loneliness. Sometimes I feel so very angry and sometimes I can’t make myself feel anything very much.

You are melting away. I expected that, people frequently talk or write about the bitter challenge of holding on to memories. The failure to meet that challenge adds to the feeling of loneliness. But no one warned me about losing the others. My friends are moving on, leaving me behind. I can’t keep up anymore. They never talk about you or what you meant to me. They have lost sight of me and appear oblivious to my feelings of loss. That is the natural way.

Football season is approaching. Last year, after you returned from William & Mary we watched a lot of games together. It was something we could enjoy in each other’s company; a safe haven in which companionship was allowed. There would be times when you would completely forget the barriers you seemed to be consciously erecting around you. We would laugh or look at each other in amazement, without reservation. The game would end and we would search for ways to extend the feelings of camaraderie – before reluctantly turning to our separate worlds, not knowing how to hang on to that precious feeling. I am not going to be able to watch this year.

We spent so very many hours together. I have a feeling that I spent every spare moment with you or Ellie. You brought me so much pleasure, so much pride, so many wonderful laughs. You always wanted to talk – about anything but feelings. These gifts you gave me need to be your legacy. I just can’t get there yet. I have stalled in this new land of pain.

I know you would have some words of wisdom for me (after a few too many jokes). But then, I wouldn’t need that wisdom if you were here to give it to me. There are so many contradictions in this situation. Since your death there have been many moments when I just knew you would have sought eye-contact with me and shared that tight little amused smile that would be reflected in the twinkle of your eyes, amusement at the ironies of life, or amazement at the stupidity of others.

Most of this is about me. Your feelings and actions have ceased to play a central role. Death has frozen you in time. Now I measure everything by my feelings about your short life and your death. Part of the price of being reduced to memory is that you are now only a reflection of others’ thoughts and feelings. Your vibrant presence is gone and fades daily but now I miss you more than ever.

Mark - August 29, 2004

Omer Shenker, 1983-2004