Yesterday an old FB post a friend had put up several years ago popped up in my notifications.
I don’t know why exactly. I guess they were looking at it and that made it show? I don’t really understand FB, any of this stuff actually, other than how to make it all work in the limited way that I do.
Anyway, it got my attention big time, in fact it is hard for me to turn my attention away from it.
It was a lovely little tribute to Tom from one of the Starbuck’s regulars, a group of friends he had made while supposedly “working at the office” (which is what we called Starbucks). Tom was a writer and he did not thrive in solitude or quiet, so working at the local coffee shop was perfect for him. This shop had a group of friends that hung out together in the morning, and little by little Tom allowed himself to be sucked in, or maybe he allowed them to be included in HIS orbit, I don’t know. He looked forward to going every morning and hanging. He’d get work done when they all left, but since many of them were writers and musicians and/or slackers, often times there was a lot more socializing going on than work.
While I often visited “the office” and even hung out many times, this was Tom’s place. It was kinda great to know where I could find him anytime, but it was his hang and I mostly left him to it. (When he died the staff took a picture of him and pasted it under one of the tables in memoriam. For a couple years I could go in there, sit down and look under the tables and see his pic. He was there a LOT.)
That’s the back story. This particular post was a tribute to him on the 4th anniversary of his death. It was sweet and loving and his friend attached a picture.
The picture is what I cannot get enough of. It’s either a selfie or Tom being Tom and shoving his face right into the lens, and what you see are his eyes, basically, that’s all. Just those eyes. And I keep going back to it because I have a lot of pics of him with eyes in them but not like this, close-up, looking right in.
I remembered the post, even vaguely the picture, but, today I cannot look away, I cannot get enough .
I don’t know how to get it from their pictures into my pictures. I want it so I can look at it anytime. I am obsessed with it. I must have looked at it 50 times since it went up yesterday and it’s all I can think about
I’m writing about it for goddsakes!, right?
I can look into his eyes.
It’s not the same, obviously , but it’s as close as I’ve found. I can pretend. I can stare and pretend that I am really looking into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that I haven’t been able to look into in forever and ever.
I miss him, still and SO….
There’s nothing I don’t miss about him. From all the FB chatter I gather this is opening day of football, right? I have joked that I don’t miss football. I DO fucking miss football; I’d give a kazillion dollars to be watching football with him right now, which is what he’d be doing , that’s for sure.
Oh goddammit this is SO not my favorite time of year. Football season and the holidays. I have to go to Costco and am dreading it because I already have been warned that Xmas shit is up. Target today had Halloween candy. I know one reason I was so upset about the canceling of my yoga teacher training was that it was going to be keeping me very busy, occupied physically and mentally, for a few of these months. It was supposed to start this weekend, and a general sense of malaise, depression whatever has set in. Truth be told though it’s not much different from every other year at this time, but I thought I might have a fix this time. And I was wrong.
There is no fix. I know it. Another fall, another holiday season, another deathwatch. I like to think “this year it’s going to be different” and it never is. I don’t know why I keep buying into that magical thinking. Maybe it’s survival instinct. Maybe one year it will be different. Maybe. Apparently not this year.
I’m going to have to go do the only thing I know how to do to see that picture as often as I need to. I’ll go and tag myself so it comes on my wall. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to do that because I just want to be alone with it…god, this sounds so fucking crazy, no? It feels crazy. It feels a LOT , a lot more than it usually does.
But I can look into his eyes.
(I should have added this when I wrote this post. Better late than never)