I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
[from Walt Whitman, Song of Myself]
My husband’s best friend, David Campbell, died a few days ago in NYC. Dave was my friend too. He was there the night I met Tim in the middle of a crazy, crowded city; he was there the day I married Tim. He’s been there for 20 years. I can’t really imagine Dave not being there anymore. And so I’m trying to imagine him here, and everywhere. Everywhere he loved to be.
Here are the links to Tim’s piece remembering Dave and a Dave memoriam: