We sold his bike for $500
And I just want him back.
We gave away most of his books, the rest sit in piles in his old room
And I just want him back.
We sent the student loan people his death certificate and canceled the credit cards and subscriptions and stopped automatic renewals —
every transaction proof of life.
Gone.
Beautiful indigo-dyed linen now cloaks the box of his ashes — cloth embroidered with his name and birth and death dates.
“Danny, March 16, 1996–2026.”
No decisions about service or gravesite. There’s a big emptiness there — one that usually doesn’t matter. We are two lapsed Catholics who never adopted an alternate tradition.
People who might come are spread all over the country or dead themselves. And what is this town to me? To his father or brother?
And anyway, I don’t really want a stone or a lovely service
I just want him back.
We’ll sell his car in June for 10 or 12 grand and I could care less.
I just want him back.
We’ve downloaded all his photos to the computer and someday I’ll look but not now, definitely cannot look now.
I took screenshots of some playlists on Spotify before cancellation, but I can’t listen, not now.
I just want him back.
I write about him every day and say his name, Danny, Danny, Danny, but am I supposed to be satisfied with the ephemeral when I can still recall his thick hair and beautiful skin and handsome smile? That almost loping walk?
He has no body now.
It was often windy in Longmont in early March, so now it’s as if the wind here harasses me — no longer a result of temperature and pressure but rather a cruel reminder of those final haunted hours.
Don’t get me started on train whistles.
He’s never, ever coming back.
I don’t need to be happy ever again. That’s not it.
I just want him back.
PS I know it’s too early to even contemplate acceptance. I know it’s too early to get past my sense of responsibility. Danny’s death is still so very, very shocking. The rawness of this grief colors everything right now. But I know that down the road, things will look different.
PPS I cried watching the last Colbert show. What are we even doing?
I never know what to say… just that I feel your pain💔 and hope it lessens overtime.
At some point you will be more able for more, but what and when will be when there when you are ready – you need not be ready ever to do some things. There’s no way you could do or be otherwise than what and who you are in this time that has no sense.
Send more love, Dee.
I still can’t get past the dates being the same. That chills me to the bone.
It is all just beyond sad … I want Danny back too so my dear friend Dee doesn’t have to miss him so much.
Dee, I have no wisdom to offer and we all process “experiences” in our own ways; what “works” for one, doesn’t for another. But I hold you, Ken, Cary and Danny in my heart. I suppose some of us just don’t see that light at the end of the tunnel anymore and the peace that death seems to offer beckons. I would argue against it with all my strength but it’s not my journey. Some times people just kill themselves in bits and pieces all their lives. I wish Danny had stayed. I send my love to you all.
It’s the forever-ness of death that is impossible to wrap the mind around. And it’s still so very, very new. And forever. That’s the hardest piece to grasp for me. You are just at the start of it all, and it started with shock. You’re in my thoughts every day.
(((Dee)))…the finality is so hard.
Having your heart break a million times every damn day… unbearable.
Yet, there is still a lot of love in this world.
Hang on.
the depth of your pain is beyond my comprehension … Liz A
Saying his name here, too… Danny, Danny, Danny.
beautiful picture
I think of you–and therefore of Danny (so much brightness in his face in the photos you post)–every day. Yes there will be a time when I will realize I’m doing that less frequently, and on some days not at all. But there will likely never be a day you don’t think of him–I just can’t imagine there would be. Yes, every day you just want him back. You have no way of knowing if he knows that. It is unacceptable that he died. Because everything changes, the way you hold the unacceptable will change too–how I cannot say. This unacceptable I imagine is a big knot that cannot be untied. And you are so alive in the telling that you just want him back. ….Doris
Uttering the inner. Making it have words. Thank you Doris.