H.

And all those lonely nights down by the river,
brought me bread and water, water in
But though I tried so hard my little darling,
I couldn’t keep the night from coming in…

I bought flowers and put them in the planters that flank the Buddha who watches over you.

The irises began to droop, and the roses too. I catastrophized those last days, of what could happen, if I didn’t dig deep enough. Like most worst-case scenarios, it never came to pass. The giant fears we gin up pass like ghosts while whole hells open up to swallow our kith and kin. It was deep enough. We dug it together in the warm wind on my 51st birthday my boy. I wrapped you in a black bandana and lay your long body down. I closed your eye and straightened your ears out. I covered your dark body first with shovel fulls of wet earth and then, at last, your face. I covered the face of God.

I kept the candles burning and they burned all night long.

I dreamed of my first love getting married and getting fucked around in that water tank town. And at some bar I waited for the chance to tell her. When I finally did it was too late. When I woke it didn’t matter that I was right, or if I was, all those years ago—just the feeling that I wasn’t in love with her anymore. Immune to her anger but lying in the wreckage of my own.

A candle was still burning. A cold spring morning.

I kept an eye on the irises and called the Reverend. He told me we are tripartite beings—of body, breath and soul. The soul being this third thing, animated from the body taking breath. I told him I just want you to be ok. That I don’t know how to grieve or pray unless I’m in trouble, and even then it’s with one eye open, but what does prayer have to do with you—out there “break[ing] in the sun till the sun breaks down” and you are the light and the heat my boy.

How foolish that I’ve spent my life being afraid to die. When I lay you down I only wish I had loved you more. That my love could keep you protected and free from harm, safe and free of suffering and pain. How egregious that we spend our lives doing what they tell us, and all the while it keeps us from who we love. We move into the bloody fray to keep a wolf from the door who will anyway arrive, and we leave the wolf with them every time we part.

This morning just after the first bird sang I kneeled at your grave and I prayed.

I thanked God for our time together. Told God you saved my life. I told you that I love you, that I miss you and that I want you to be well. I just want you to be ok. The irises perked up by the afternoon. I brought in the roses, cut and placed them in cool water in the dark. I dreamed of you that night but I couldn’t reach you. I woke up wishing that my love could reach you. That you are ok. I just want you to be ok.

THE BEST BOY