Sunday, September 28, 2008
With And Without
Remembering Old Friends
This piece is dedicated to the remembrance of old friends. I moved to a small town called Rosendale when I was 6 years old. Rosendale is located upstate NY. Just outside of Kingston. It’s a small mountain town and is where my heart still longs for today.
The poem I am introducing to you today is a reflection of that time and mainly about a friend who I grew up with. He has since died and I reflect once in awhile about our life such as it was.
Brian was my best friend. We hung out, cut school, partied and did most everything together. I could go into detail about our life but I think it would take a lifetime to put into words.
Brian died at the age of 27 and the way I found out was a total shock to me. I had moved on, was married and living in Portsmouth NH. Every year I would visit my parents who still lived in the old house I grew up in. I would come for a visit and always visit Brian and his grandmother who he lived with. We would hang out, party and always have a great visit. We would always be the best of friends and always happy to see each other.
To make this story a little shorter, one day I was visiting my family in the summer of 1983. It was sort of a family reunion and I was home for the week. The very first day I was home I had to walk down to Brian’s house. I couldn’t wait to see him. To my surprise someone else answered the door and said the people who lived there had moved away. They said that the guy that lived in the house was found dead from an overdose of drugs. His grandmother found him and had a heart attack and was under the care of a nursing home.
I was in shock to find out the news this way and have never been the same. I blocked it out of my mind for many years until one day when I was walking and started to reflect. Anyway this is what I wrote with my best friend Brian in mind.
Folks, DRUGS KILL!
Brian, if somehow you can read this I wrote this with you in mind.
As I walked down the street
Faces, oh so many faces
I turn to greet a friend
But he’s not there
When I turn around again
Faces so strange, unknown
Unlike a feeling I’ve ever known before
Nothing like a friend
To talk to when things are hard
But now you’re gone
It’s hard but I must go on
Even though your not there
I can’t help but think you are
And somehow it makes it all easier
What about this emptiness
A word that is used to describe a pain
Hurting is a teacher
It teaches me to understand
That nothing lasts forever
Nothing in this great big world
Anyone who thinks otherwise is a lost cause
Why am I here
A question I ask myself
What is my purpose
A reason for me to live this way
I was born of this world
I will live of this world
I will die of this world
Here’s to long lost friends
This piece is dedicated to the remembrance of old friends. I moved to a small town called Rosendale when I was 6 years old. Rosendale is located upstate NY. Just outside of Kingston. It’s a small mountain town and is where my heart still longs for today.
The poem I am introducing to you today is a reflection of that time and mainly about a friend who I grew up with. He has since died and I reflect once in awhile about our life such as it was.
Brian was my best friend. We hung out, cut school, partied and did most everything together. I could go into detail about our life but I think it would take a lifetime to put into words.
Brian died at the age of 27 and the way I found out was a total shock to me. I had moved on, was married and living in Portsmouth NH. Every year I would visit my parents who still lived in the old house I grew up in. I would come for a visit and always visit Brian and his grandmother who he lived with. We would hang out, party and always have a great visit. We would always be the best of friends and always happy to see each other.
To make this story a little shorter, one day I was visiting my family in the summer of 1983. It was sort of a family reunion and I was home for the week. The very first day I was home I had to walk down to Brian’s house. I couldn’t wait to see him. To my surprise someone else answered the door and said the people who lived there had moved away. They said that the guy that lived in the house was found dead from an overdose of drugs. His grandmother found him and had a heart attack and was under the care of a nursing home.
I was in shock to find out the news this way and have never been the same. I blocked it out of my mind for many years until one day when I was walking and started to reflect. Anyway this is what I wrote with my best friend Brian in mind.
Folks, DRUGS KILL!
Brian, if somehow you can read this I wrote this with you in mind.
As I walked down the street
Faces, oh so many faces
I turn to greet a friend
But he’s not there
When I turn around again
Faces so strange, unknown
Unlike a feeling I’ve ever known before
Nothing like a friend
To talk to when things are hard
But now you’re gone
It’s hard but I must go on
Even though your not there
I can’t help but think you are
And somehow it makes it all easier
What about this emptiness
A word that is used to describe a pain
Hurting is a teacher
It teaches me to understand
That nothing lasts forever
Nothing in this great big world
Anyone who thinks otherwise is a lost cause
Why am I here
A question I ask myself
What is my purpose
A reason for me to live this way
I was born of this world
I will live of this world
I will die of this world
Here’s to long lost friends
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
As always a deep and insightful piece.One to which we all can relate!
You honored your friend beautifully Donald :)
Bonjour Donald,
A tale of eternal friendship -- beautiful story, touching poem.
Your friend lives on through your words. Thanks for letting us get to know him.
Big hugs and lots of LOVE,
Mudd a.k.a. Happy Oza :-)
xoxo
A very moving poem. It reminds me of the friends that I have lost over the years. I could not have expressed my feelings any better.
Post a Comment