It has felt like tomorrow since yesterday.

2 years later.

A dream came to me this week. Sharon and I are walking on Wilshire towards Fairfax, by the old May Co store and the streets are all abustle with holiday cheer. People mob the sidewalks and through a gap in the crowd I see an old fashioned library study carrel. A man in a fedora is peeking out from the top, and I think to myself, "That hat looks like it belongs to Greg. That head looks like it belongs to Greg."

But we keep walking and I don't raise the alarm or say a word to Sharon because that happens all the time and besides, Greg is dead anyway; I'm walking down the street and someone turns a corner and he looks like Greg, or someone is in line at the movies and he looks like Greg, or someone is sitting in a bar and he looks like Greg. And most of the time I get closer and he doesn't look anything like Greg, or he looks a little like Greg, or he walks like Greg but doesn't sit right or lean his head the right way. And so I figure the guy in the study carrel was the same story- another tall guy with an Italian nose and green eyes.


Except that since we're walking right past the carrel, I take a look inside and it IS Greg, and he's not sick or sad or even the slightest bit dead, and all I can say to him is "Why are you just sitting here?" and before he can answer, I wake up.


What's the point of the dream? I don't know. I do know that for months after he died I saw Greg constantly -without the study carrel- and every time my heart would pound and I would startle someone and I'd likely as not burst into tears afterward or follow him several blocks out of my way to figure exactly what it was that tricked my eye, and my mind. 2 years later, I still notice someone but it's more objective and I don't forget even for a second that Greg is dead. Not even in my dream. I guess that's progress for you- even if it hurts to feel like I'm letting go.

Perhaps sometime in this wide mysterious universe in which we live, I will walk down a street somewhere and see the tall man in a black coat and fedora hat and cry out the name that is always on my lips and he will turn.....and it will be my dad. Sometime, someday.

Until we meet again....
Black hole love.

Sh*t my dad says (that we cribbed from other sh*t)

So everyone has figured out by now that Greg and I watched a LOT of movies, tv shows, misc forms of entertainment together. Some of the best lines from said entertainment found their way into our conversational rotations and became catch phrases we bandied around like nobody's business. It was a secret connection, partly because we clearly alarmed other people with these random outbursts; sometimes I'll still occasionally say one of these aloud, even though the most common reaction is a blank stare...I know my dad is cracking up somewhere. Below, a selection:

"Pull the STRING! Pull the STRING!" - Ed Wood
"Yadda Yadda, warden." - Lenny Bruce
"If you're funny, I'm a pretzel." - Sweet Smell of Success
"Uh-oh, nymphos." - Shock Corridor
"You big banana-head!" - The Asphalt Jungle
"Next stop, Willoughby!" - The Twilight Zone
"Whatever you do, don't sell that cow!" - Bonnie & Clyde
"There's always room for one more.." - The Twilight Zone

"Gooble Gobble, we accept you- one of us! One of us!" - Freaks

There were so so many more, but I'm drawing a blank and unfortunately he's not around to ask for reminders. I'll come back and post more as they occur to me. And finally, one of our very favorites (which involved lifting our shirts a bit and pinching our belly buttons):

"Helloooooo (la la laaa)" - Seinfeld