... you're dead.
Hi, My name is Uzi Saghi and I was hit by a tidal wave.
Which is a pity, bcs today you would have been 30 years old. I celebrated my 30th with you remember? You and your brothers threw my chair in the air, as Jews are wont to. You wore a black turtleneck and a ponytail and looked absolutely smashing, as you were wont to. You didn't even own a jumper when we first met and all of a sudden there you were, looking terribly European.
It is your birthday today and I think that is why my words have gone. I haven't had a lot to say in a nlong, long while. If I had words, I'd have to use them to talk abt you, and to tell people how I hoped I would be brave enough to face your photos this year so I could scan them, and show the world how absolutely beautiful you were, face of an archangel and the soul to match. I thought I might send them to your mum as well.
I cannot bear to look at them yet, I simply cannot bear to.
You would have been 30 years old, and now you are, what? Where? They have therapy on earth, which is a good thing bcs this little death of yours it doesn't seem to be getting any easier to accept. If anything, the feeling of unrealitty, of surreality has increased. Sadly, I should have been in therapy before your death, not sought it after it, for I flee and isolate myself when reality just doesn't live up to its expectations so I tend to only visit my psychiatrist once in a very irregular while. Not conducive to a greater well being but I am too weary to care.
Remember how your mum once gently urged me to not rely on my lazy ovaries to ensure I'd not get pregnant? It was a very horrifying moment, only surpassed by your sister explaining to your mum and I, using your penis as an example, how to apply one of those penile fishing flies or something or other we'd just come across in a magaine. Your mum was just so worried I'd get pregnant (ha!) and we'd have a baby (ha!) and your life woudl be ruined (heheeeeeee!). I suppose we all wish your life had been ruined, yes? It'd make missing you easier to bear.
Happy fucking birthday.
And look at what lovely Cat wrote. They share a birthday. She remembers.
Labels: Uzi my Tig