(today hurt more than i thought it would)
eyes, blurred and blinded, i drove, alone, in 'clutch fists to chest, swallow hard' type pain.
i went to his home (occupied by another now) and sat on his steps. remembered the last time we sat there together, in 100+ heat, me, fat and bald, him lovingly making jokes about how i am my brother's twin now without hair, and toots, 5 months old and giggling while being carted back and forth from neighbor to neighbor by a grand-father who adored her, so.
i scribbled out sloppy, painful, pleading messages to him on a white candle...lit it...then left it there. no miracle weight lifted, i walked down his stairs (no longer his) feeling no more at peace than whence i came.
his home. his address. now belonging to someone else. the porch roof that my uncle restored two summers ago and the huge tree he loved (only tree on the block) in front of his home, flashing memories in fallen leaves and perfectly placed wooden splinters. remembering how sad he was when he thought he would need to chop it down to keep the local teen dealers from stashing their "work" at the base of it's roots or making deals in it's shadows.
if i don't leave philly...i fear i'll be back, year after year, ritualistically, replaying every moment of every moment that i had with him here.