Buzz

Sunday was the anniversary of Buzz's passing. Two years and three days since I lost my brother. They say time heals all wounds, it's bullshit.

I like this horrible, depressing picture. In a sad sort of way. I took it in the street in front of the hospital, the last time I saw my kid brother conscious and alive. Toronto General. I walked about twenty blocks to get there. Would walk back alone, with Leslie.

The photograph perfectly captures the utter bleakness of the moment, the cold grayness of the day, the loss I felt then and still feel every day.

You think that you will have those people you love forever but it unfortunately doesn't work that way.

Ignominy. I love that word. Having to spend eternity with a pigeon or gull standing on your cap or a sparrow soiling your brow, even if your birthplace was in fact a forge or furnace. Or quarry of stone. Nature offers cruel desserts and nasty last acts.