It’s a long story, involving a near dog attack, a Navajo hoax, 36 hours, $11.98 in paint, 1 narrowly missed lady fight over a wheelie chair, a day of being a family, the steadfast independence of a six year old, a really beautiful execution, and the resurrection of a funk demon. There were laughs, nervous exchanges, decisions and remorse.
This is the prayer that I wrote for a dead man that I only watched from a far a dozen times or so. A man that I barely even know anything about. You were a writer, you were a cigar smoker and you died of a heart attack betting on the ponies.
As I chucked your last piece of furniture into a pregnant dumpster I had a moment of clarity….. not everything is meant to have a second life.
Photos compliment of this sweet post.
It looked like this except for directly above my head, brighter, with Santa Fe clouds. We have the very best skies.
The air was cold and breezy. The moon a perfect circle directly in the center of the sky circled in a huge ring. I couldn’t help but stare.
In the dirty parking lot just in front of the dumpster I said this prayer to you:
Some of us are trapped by this world.
Dependent in ways that we never imagined.
It is easy to feel stuck.
I know this.
You may have known it better than I.
I hope that you have found peace.
That you feel free.
If I would have known you I surely would have found something about you to love.
I’m sorry that we never had that chance.