Harold Carr

Harold Carr

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Sat, 18 Oct 2003

Another Day Alone

Yesterday we would have left for somewhere. Many times we never knew where, it didn't matter - we just left. Instead I hiked White Rock Loop on Antelope Island. Today we'd be there, somewhere, hiking. Instead I'm here alone - writing.

Flavia says to lose someone close makes you more human, more gentle.

Tomorrow I go with Noal and Tracy to spread some of his ashes where he laid down on our last hike in the Uintas (to Bench Lake).

We remember his voice but let's not forget his never-wavering rock-solid rhythm guitar.

Drifting today. Didn't go hiking. Saving my knees for tomorrow.

Drifting. Walking. Farmers Market, Avenues library, Golden Braid. Everywhere I go he's not there.

It does help to tell this story of these days. I'm even starting to rewrite some of these lines in my head - something I have a little control over.

Drifting. "Got your slinglite?" Drifting. "Got your leatherman?" Glad he was my friend.

There may be no reason, but there is a rhythm in grief - as I am discovering step-by-step, hour-by-hour, day-by-day.

Keep walking.

There are no paragraphs - just fragments and sentences floating by.

Something is missing.

It takes a long time to make a friend - a moment to lose.

Letting go - someday the dust will settle.

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Harold Carr

Harold Carr