This is really fucking hard.
I found out on Monday that you had died in a motorcycle accident the evening before.
It starts out quiet. Then I think of the way you’d break an uncomfortable silence with some horribly lewd sound. Or how you’d attack me out of the blue and say “stop crying” in a mock threatening voice. Your voice is always in my head, coming and going as you please.
You were always there to make me mock my fears and face the world head on. When I needed you, no matter where you were, you came. You were there at my first open-mic, my first show, you came up to see me whenever I was feeling lost and alone in LA. You came to my last show. You came with me to parties we both were uncomfortable attending but knew we had to.
I need you now, why won’t you come?
Allow me to believe that everything happens for a reason, as hard as that idea is right now. Allow me to believe that you were there with me when I sang for you the last stupid song I wrote. Allow me to believe that you gave me that because you knew I needed it because you knew what I’ve been through and you knew I never wanted to go through it again and now that you have made me you at least eased the pain by giving me just two more minutes with you.
You left us enough love to get through this once you were gone.
Oh, sweet Cousine. I am so sorry. I love you.
im struggling… and obviously spending my friday night googling tommy sage hand…. this is beautiful. thank you