Jamison On A Windy Day - An Ode to Tommy

"Life's a bitch and then you die. That's why we get high. Cause you never know when you're going to go."

It's one of those statements said in passing,
A gust of breeze between my leaves and your leaves,
mouth and ears,
and we walk, steps continue with the same old feet
and on we go.
Regardless of sayings, life goes on.
In the wake of death. Life goes on.

Fear and pain and the lot of madness that has encompassed existence for many a century,
and happiness too, though in small doeses that have a set time of action, like sleeping pills with a window of minutes where they take effect, love gives you a chance, we all get one, or two if we're lucky, three if we've the child of a saint,
but for centuries there's been worry and wonder, pain and suffering.
All cure's are temporary and we mock the future,
knowing, but not aware, that it will all continue to get better and worse.
For the rest of the lives of our children's children.

We're here now.

All of us walking and wishing and settling in.
Dreams are half lived and life is waited on, hand and foot, by the moments that we create.
Still. Half a dream. At most. Is all that most try for.

On the trains there are strangers who haven't said hello.
I wonder if I'm the only one yearning to yelp with glee or pain or acknowledgement of something, something, something.
And we all rock, arms tightly toward our bodies, no touching of neighbors, through the same twists and turns of the same steel track, forged and smoothed by machines and heat.
All the same, yet no one notices.

Sometimes there's a shock. A jolt of wisdom and you choose to let it pass.
Keep it and it may turn to pain, as all knowledge does when not watered and gifted to another before going stale.
But keep it. Chance it. Hold it till the breath fills the body with poison and the last moments of consciousness sit idly by, wondering if you'll let them do their job. Then, like the fine mist rising from a swamp warmed with summer stagnant heat, let it exit through the pores. Give it back. It was given to you. He gave it to me.

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There's only a few reasons to drink whiskey in mid day when hours away from the night shift at a rehab. Today, I drink for you, my friend who left me too soon but taught me before his last day. And the whiskey won't run dry, nor will the hope that you've instilled in this sometimes fearful heart. To lose a brother is to loose a piece, substantial and necessary, of the soul.

A man who never questioned my friendship died a year ago today. A man who taught me about commitment, about faith, about the timeless bonds of brothers in arms, of old fashioned thugs and new aged knowers, a man who fought battles and drew the blood of another for me has left this place. He knew what I couldn't do but never mentioned it. He swept those floors when I said my back hurt and I'll never forget that.

Tom. I know you're there, watching and listening, smoking the best grass and patting each one of us on the back when it gets too tough.

I know you're there when the wind lifts the brim of my hat. I know you sat on that smaller rock next to me when the sun rose over the darkest and bluest ocean I've ever seen yesterday morning. I know I can always take from your strength and feed it to my feet when the walking just wont stop.

And I know so much. So little, but so much. Love, the bonds of friends, the strength of one, the purpose of living the dream despite disbelief, the beauty of taking it in and letting it rest, only to give it to the next generation for their hope, their happiness, their strength. I know the strength and truth of a friend and a brother.

The days get too dark sometimes. But I'll never let go. You'll push me back when I'm falling towards the pit. Good show man. You never stopped doing it right. There's no sense in feigning weakness when we all have the strength to save ourselves and the rest of the people on the block. And if we cry, we'll have our brothers. When we feel the fear, we'll help one another. When we can't keep going, we'll refuse to think about giving up. We've got all we need in the friends we have. Seen or unseen. And you are rocking the clouds and probably not even looking down.

If you do. Take a minute and know that it all stopped and started over again the day I got that call. One year ago today, I met a pain I knew existed but had never touched. Here we are. One year later. You're in the sky. I can see you smiling. We'll take care of things down here. Don't you worry.

I love you buddy. I walk this world with hope. And you are always walking with me, laughing at the strangeness of this maddening world, making me smoke blunts instead of bowls, getting me too high. Thank you for living your life. You've change mine and those of many others. We'll never forget you.