Jamie, It’s been a long time hasn’t it? I don’t think I’ve written to you in a while, maybe a few years, maybe a few months. I guess it’s just hard to find the right words to say to you, probably because it’s harder to channel those feelings into words, which is what I’m trying to do right now. The other day I talked to your parents, mostly about you, some about me, but mostly about you and what you were like. I’ve understood your death now as more of a tragedy against nature than anything - now that I’m 20 I can try to understand your death as more of an adult, and I’ve been trying to talk to people that way for a while now, including your Anne, your parents and hopefully Harlan when I get the chance. Only recently has it been that I’ve thought of you as being a shimmering star or the more unluxuriously named, comet, burning extremely hot for a brief period of time - seen by a few number of people, and then, for another set of eyes to see, reappearing in a few thousand years to burn once again across some placid night sky. You might have been a bit brighter though, shining, whispering almost into our view. To think how much you meant to me, to everyone, it’s more than painful to think of our sky without you. I made a book for you and us by the way - it’s called “The Serpent Dance.” I like to think its about how you were before all of this happened, and what’s happened after you died. I’ve been studying Mesoamerican art, and they have an extremely prevalent symbol/ God in their cultures that’s recognized as the Serpent, in the form of a rattlesnake actually. I’ve thought a lot about how I want to incorporate it into my work and realized it should represent a beast that alters a person by hypnotizing them, kind of like how you were. The beast in the book is about recognition of the tragedy in your death when we were kids and how anxiety or depression affects a person, kind of without them knowing about it. I would have loved to have you read it, but I hope other people read it and think of you - that’s really why I made it, to give you new life in the memory of others, since you can’t be here with us. When I was talking to your parents a few days ago, I came to the realization that memory is such a precious thing (if you hadn’t caught on). While you’ve been dreaming and having your life flash before your tired eyes, I’ve been here, living for the most part, thinking of you and wading through the sullen wake of memories you and I made. I’ve always wished you would give me a sign, wishing you could reach to me some how - giving me anything as hope or disillusioned recognition in the form of chance, but nothing yet, although I keep waiting, because I’ll always wait for you to come back in some way or another. However, I think it’s better you exist in my memory - in a place where you and I only exist. I know whatever mood I’m in I can go there, in my head, and exist only with you, living out the days we’d had, as boys, as men. I hope you come back soon, until then, I’ll wait, for your comet’s tail. Nicholas A.O. - June 2015
For Jamie
Special thanks to Jamie and the Goode Family Chirs McCoy and Susan Kemner-Reed Michael Sieben My Family & you.
If you or anyone you know might be suffering from depression or anxiety, there are people everywhere ready to help. Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1 (800) 273-8255 My Phone Number: 1 (512) 415-3781 www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org
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