Birthday from a distance (distance unknown)

And so Greg would be sixty. A new decade, one he'll never see.....So many questions about a present that doesn't exist:

What would he be writing? Which books would he read, and what would he say about them? Would he be cranky? What would he want for his birthday? Where would he travel? Which songs would he put on a mixtape? Would he still take naps? What would he look like? Would he still stand tall? Who would he stay in touch with? Who would his new friends be? What would he give me for Christmas? How would he get along with the man in my life? Which movies would he choose to see screenings for? Would he stay sober? Would he drive the same car? What would he say about God? What would he think of my cats? How would he feel about my job? What words would he say when I feel low and discouraged? How would he feel about Puig? What color Converse shoes would he wear? When would he eat dinner? How often would he go to New York? Which stories would he read to my students? Would he still be able to sing? Would he buy organic cookies at Whole Foods? How often would he call me? What would he think about while he walks the dogs at night? 

Would he be well?

These are the questions I rarely let myself contemplate, because it is too desperately easy to slide into a hole, until maybe the phone rings or a door slams, and then I stand and realize hours have passed, and the light is gone and the bottle is empty, and I'm cold. 

And it's all just hypothetical anyway, questions that will never be answered. Of course, there could be attempts, but it's still hypothetical when someone speaks for the dead, even to say "He would be so proud of you" or "He would eat that polenta you made." And some answers are so inherently true that they aren't even answers, because there is no question. He would love me. He would love me. He would love me. 

One of my best friends gave me a poem a few years ago, which I found and read today:

i will learn how to love a person and then i will teach you and then we will know

seen from a great enough distance i cannot be seen
i feel this as an extremely distinct sensation
of feeling like shit; the effect of small children
is that they use declarative sentences and then look at your face
with an expression that says, ‘you will never do enough
for the people you love’; i can feel the universe expanding
and it feels like no one is trying hard enough
the effect of this is an extremely shitty sensation
of being the only person alive; i have been alone for a very long time
it will take an extreme person to make me feel less alone
the effect of being alone for a very long time
is that i have been thinking very hard and learning
about mortality, loneliness, people, society, and love; i am afraid
that i am not learning fast enough; i can feel the universe expanding
and it feels like no one has ever tried hard enough; when i cried in your room
it was the effect of an extremely distinct sensation that ‘i am the only person
alive,’ ‘i have not learned enough,’ and ‘i can feel the universe expanding
and making things be further apart
and it feels like a declarative sentence
whose message is that we must try harder'

-Tao Lin

I miss you Greg, and I love you. Happy birthday, somewhere out there....