I miss you Josh.

I was sitting on the couch when the call came. I had planed to see Josh at the hospital one more time with my wife and son but it wasn’t meant to be.

Erin’s voice choked back tears as she told me “Josh is gone. He’s gone.” I thanked her and hung up the phone as fast as I could. My heart broke for a second time. The first happened when I saw him in the intensive care unit the night before. I let out a loud wail and burst into tears. My 6th month old son smiled, as he must have thought I was doing some new wacky face he hadn’t seen before. I held him and cried.

Now it’s been a whole year today. There hasn’t been one day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about Josh. I have a dream almost monthly where we meet and talk. But I’ve just shut down my emotions when it comes to our dear friend. I hadn’t realized until this moment but I’ve been especially bitter this last year, like I’m in a permanent foul mood. Josh’s death brought me down more than I realized.

I really have so much to be thankful for, I truly do. I know Josh would never want me to be so sad. He’d want thoughts of him to bring joy, happiness and love. He’d want me… and you to cherish our memories of him, even if there was some sort of unfinished business; he would want us to be happy.

I’ve been avoiding most things “Josh” this last year and that’s just not a good thing.

But this sad anniversary has put things in perspective and so I’ve resolved to be more positive this next year for Josh’s memory and for my sake. It’s Josh absence that hurts not all the amazing recollections I have of him. It’s time to share more of them.

In this spirit I just set my itunes to Moxey Früvous. I haven’t listened to them in a long time. It feels good.

You were the best of us Josh.

I’ve been avoiding posting… I’ve been going into a mild state of denial when it comes to Josh’s death. If I don’t post about him, if I don’t read about him, if I don’t think about him, then I might believe he’s still out there for a second, a sweet second where he’s still making that big laugh or helping somebody out with a big grin on his face.

I find I avoid listening to Moxy Früvous, They Might Be Giants and Sarcastic Mannequins now (three of my favorite bands). The songs from these groups are just too tied up in memories of Josh. Things like a long 24-hour trip up to Vancouver Canada where Josh and I discovered the Sarcastic Mannequins in a crazy dive called the Cruel Elephant. I always kinda felt that SM was “our” soundtrack. When it comes to TMBG, they take me right back to the house on Denver Street. Joseph had introduced both Josh and I to their music a few years earlier, but it was in that house where many a wild party was had that Josh and I played and played our They Might Be Giants CDs. When it comes to Moxy well… I introduced Josh to their music but Moxy just feels like Josh. I don’t really know how else to describe it. I remember Josh letting out a really huge laugh on “…and now I work at the Pizza Pizza” during the King of Spain song the first time he heard it. From that time on he was an immense fan. When I think of I think of Moxy… I think of Josh and vice versa.

I, like all of you, have had dreams of Josh. My subconscious won’t keep away from what my waking self tries to forget. That I miss Josh…. He was in theater, rehearsing for some musical. It was interesting because the theater was an amalgamation of the various spaces I have seen him in over the years. Many friends surrounded him but he was the star of the show of course.

August is a hard time because it was this month last year that I talked to Josh for the last time… via phone. He’d been avoiding me but still I sent him a birthday card. He called me up and we talked about my son. I really wanted him to see my little boy… but just like the months before he called Josh avoided me until his death.

Heavy Random thoughts as Josh’s Birthday approaches….


-Swinebread

Home and the Kitsch That Builds It

I've had my new home here in Billings now for 20 days. Boxes are slowly opening, and their contents march to their homes on shelves and small tables. 55-degree days are punctuated by snowy ones (I hear that this weekend will be no different), and old pictures taken of and by Josh smile happily when I pluck their frames from their newsprint packing material.

I listen to Moxy Fruvous. I listen to the words. "Your mother made you cry when she told you about the womb, and how people die."

The photo of Josh at Larrabee hangs in my studio. The photo Joshua took of my wife and me stands poised on a shelf above my favorite books.

I am reminded every day now that my house is less of a home for the loss of his presence, and that the photographs are a cold, vivid loneliness in comparison to the companionship I have enjoyed all these years.

Acceptance is a bitter, bitter swill. I miss my friend.

It was a very wonderful and moving remembrance for Josh last night. I'm in such a sad place right now so it is hard for me to write anything coherent, but I did want to thank all the folks that worked on putting the event together. It meant everything to have it at such a wonderful theater with such wonderful people.

There was an amazing slideshow with pictures from different periods in Josh's life. That show was run to the tunes of Moxy Fruvous. I took a lot of comfort from this because I was the one the introduced Josh to this band. If Josh ever had a soundtrack to his life than Moxie's Music was it.

Here's a video of one of the songs we heard while remembering what a great man Josh was:



-Swinebread