Good-bye
Wednesday, September 4, 2002 --  4:57pm
Posted by Bar


Peter, me and a few of our friends are heading out to Forrest's gravesite
this afternoon to say a few prayers.  We put down his gravestone on Monday
afternoon and decided it would be nice to gather one last time to formally
celebrate Forrest's life.

We got the headstone a week ago and I was surprised at how difficult it was
for me.  Something about the stone really finalized the facts of my life.
Last week was long and hard; lots of stuff was coming at me and I couldn't
seem to get my bearings for even a moment.  This week is better, but not
much.

One of the things I realized, though, is that it is time for me to go inward
and to spend some time reflecting on things by myself.  I have relied on you
all so completely these last 25 months, and I have kept my self so insanely
busy since Forrest's death, that it feels like it is time for me to retreat
a bit now.  I am feeling like I want to write in my private journal again -
something that I haven't done since Forrest was diagnosed - and I feel like
it's time for me to focus on writing music again.

It seems sort of silly to say good-bye this way when so many of you are on
my professional e-mail list and will be hearing from me regularly in that
way, but not saying good-bye to you in this way didn't seem right after all
the care you have given Peter, Forrest and me.

Thank you for all that you have done for me.  Words don't express the amount
of peace and comfort you have collectively enveloped me in.

I thought that I would leave you with a poem that I wrote in October or
November of last year.  It's funny that when I wrote the poem I thought that
I would be submerged in grief if I saw a handprint of Forrest's after his
death.  Now that his death is real, I find that I am delighted to find any
sign of the fact that he was actually here.


"Little Hands"

I know you were here
because of the little hands
prints smeared across my
glossy black piano

Sometimes I'm afraid of
little hands
knowing that I'll find them
at the most unexpected times
after you're gone

Sometimes,
most of the time,
all of the time,
I am delighted to see your
little hands
white, pink
pulsing with cancerous blood
testing my every moment

I love you,
little hands


*****

And I love you all as well. Peace be with you,

Bar