To the Yearbooks

I spent the last hour raging,
Letting anger out about some bullshit,
An effing health club,
A place that should bring joy,
And then my friend texted me,

It was out of sorts for him,
Code for something is wrong,
Sappy, sentimental, vulnerable
Everything my anything but humble goat herding brother
Brings to our friendship.

It’s not that we are emotionally detached,
But we live in an old-school bro code
Where feelings are hard to express,
But age has a way of bringing life to a halt,
Making the bullshit seem a whole lot less important.

So the text was inviting, I inquired,
Two of our classmates died,
Sisters, two weeks apart,
One I knew super well,
Pearl Jam was playing, “Last Kiss” in my headphones.

My old friend, our basketball manager,
All around loudmouth who kept us straight,
Super sure that she knew she was always right
And I knew better than to question because
Sherri was Sherri. Today, she left.

Her sister passed two-weeks ago,
I imagine Sherri was heartbroken,
I don’t know what happened, I just know
I’m sad, sad for their family, sad that their energy is gone,
Sad that I won’t get that bear hug at homecoming next year.

This distancing, this aging, this whole mess,
An opportunity to reach out to those you know,
The people you might have lost touch with,
The ones you don’t talk to enough.
Do it.

2 Comments

  1. Hello Classmate! You penned the essence of Sherri on a wonderful way. Thank You. The world is definitely dimmer without our girl Sherri in it. Take good care of yourself.

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