Life, in Boxes

ctsToday was an incredibly rough day as we finally laid to rest the brother of my heart, perhaps even more so than the night we received the call that he was gone. I tried distracting myself with The Hove International Blue Book (J loved his art-photography especially-more than anything except his family, and his collection of vintage cameras was the envy of many), only to discover that J was in fact seeker312, my online pen-friend for the past seven years. He’s probably kicking back in the afterlife, laughing his ass off that I never realized. And me? I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. We’d known each other over 20 years, how could I not have noticed that my dearest friend and one of the photographers I’d most admired were one and the same…?


A thousand books, at least as many DVDs:

Once they stretched along the shelves, wall to wall and floor to ceiling

Vintage cameras, a collection painstakingly assembled since childhood:

All neatly lined up behind glass

Sketchbooks and photographs too many to number,

Letters written and never sent…and now will never be

Memories of what once was, a life packed away in boxes,

Waiting for the day I can breathe again


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