17

Holding and honoring the passage of time for something over which you had no control or say is about the only way one can claim some level of agency. And yet, a year on into a global pandemic one is quickly reminded that the passage of time is not really a linear exercise at all. It’s more like a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode featuring Q (that’s Q as in John DeLancie’s character, not the secret source of Gospel material, and certainly not the ridiculously dangerous conspiratorial bullshit invading the body politic of the day). 

To that end, I dreamt about Jimmy last night.  Back when we were kids in Mayfield, on Heritage Drive. Where the hell did that come from?  It’s almost as if after 17 years I’m given the keenest reminders that he’s never not around. Somehow, somewhere. 

I miss deeply what we don’t have - time with him now as our lives have moved, shifted, changed. Through those transitions one thing would be constant - the force of his presence and all that entails. 

Jimmy’s been gone half as long as he lived.  That seems impossible and yet there it is. 

So if you knew him, take a minute and remember Jimmy. As you do, look for him in your day. He’s around.