Memory is a funny thing. It is independent of our will and desires, and no matter how much we may want to remember or forget something, somehow, it almost always acts opposite to our preferences. Of course, memory can be strengthened, weakened or somewhat controlled, but essentially, the mind remembers what makes a significant impression on it, even if this impression is a very small detail.
I was informed this past week that an old friend and colleague died. He was 26. I have never encountered the death of someone I know, besides my grandparents, and the news came with some very strange feelings. Even though I hadn't seen him in 3 years, I always assume that others' existences runs parallel to mine, just out of sight, and will run for approximately the same duration. But now, knowing that he is gone: that he is no longer alive, and we all go on, is heartbreaking. I was a there for a short period in his life, and though it'd been years since our last correspondence, I was around when it ended. My shock and sadness seemed to be for the identity of him 3 years ago: cool and compulsive Bahman, plagued by his moods and addictions but a sincerely caring and contemplative guy. And for the year that I knew him, we were good friends. People change, but not their essence, and I can still imagine what he was like, his gestures, voice, smile...I can remember him as acutely as I can remember the scent of my first boyfriend, and while our relationship was never sexual/romantic, the strength of its memory persists.
Bahman, Bahman, you always liked to do things your own way. Your entire life was unconventionally formatted, and your death was, too.
And so it seems
inevitably, I would return to my place of birth
before the fine tenderness of my mother's womb
back to the rustic depths of the earth.
I recall first feelings which in fact endured
and the warmth of company resurfacing
I was alone - and never at all
I was reckless - and never thought I'd fall
Yet when I did, I could not bring myself to regret it.
For every second, every moment
was a tread closer to the incident
which would render my life to closure
and reunite me with my maker,
Death, came, at last.