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.

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.

Thoughts and Musings....

Hello all...let me introduce myself; I'm one of Swinebread's siblings and have known Josh since his UP days. I too miss him crazy alot... I plan on doing a longer post of remembrance, but thought I'd do a shout out for info on Josh's favorite charities. I believe there is a memorial fund in the works? Perhaps family & friends can contact Swinebread, and he can put the info in the sidebar to make it easy for anyone to donate to his fund, or directly to one of his fav charities in Josh's name.

I recall hearing at the Gerding Theatre Remembrance that Josh had worked for VBC (Village Building Convergence), an event created by The City Repair Project, perhaps that could be one added to the list?

Thanks again to all who spoke at his Remembrance event, I loved hearing all the stories, knowing I'm not the only one who can't imagine a world without him in it still.