Still There

It was 4 years ago now that my friend Carlo killed himself. A violent tragic death. A shocking death. A death.
I was sitting there this late morning eating breakfast with my other and all of a sudden said, "Do you want to listen to my friend's music?" and then it all came back to me. I hadn't listened to anything of his for about a year. Just couldn't. Then the time was right and I listened. And I remembered. And I am so happy that I have these CD's of his.

I highly recommend this, and the song he has linked. I have spent many a day listening to it with tears coming down my cheeks. I guess, somewhat, this is another one.

Before he died, soon after he had met me, he painted a picture. And it looked like me. Fearing I would think it was me, as I am sure it was, and seeing how he didn't want my then other to perceive it as me, he changed it a bit. He changed the hair to black. He said it was an attempt at exaggeration of modern ideals of beauty, that long neck, those high cheek bones. The picture was larger than me, that picture it took up the whole wall. He made a picture of me. He painted me. I want to know if that picture was damaged in the grease fire that caused him to move into my house after I had left. I want to know if it survived the turmoil after his death. I want to see that picture above all. I want to have that picture close to me if I can. I want to hold onto this piece of me and him. I don't even know where to begin.