Forty days later. It feels like it was just last night. At the same time it feels like it’s been forty years.
Your 40th day thing was at the Polo Club, which Tracy and I missed almost completely. Ampy sang a song for you. I told DSJ she should’ve banged out the drums for you. She said she’d do “Enter Sandman” for you on your birthday. Anya told stories about you, how you are so patient with children. When you worked on the same floor in the same building for different companies, you came to her cubicle everyday to ask for food, then toilet paper. Even when she’d left the company, you’d go to the other cubicles and ask for food, then toilet paper.
We’re together almost every night. I wish we talked more about you. Sometimes it feels good to, but most of the time it’s too difficult. We drink most nights as well. I miss your bartending. Even if some of the girls think that your drinks taste like cough syrup, I thought they were pretty good. These days it’s just vodka straight up or beer.
For the first two weeks it was just a lot of staring into space for us. A little talking, then staring into space. Thinking about that night. Or random thoughts, like how excited you were about Keynote and how everyone at work was more interested in the transitions and effects you used instead of your actual presentation. Then you tried to teach Tracy, the professional video editor, how to use keyframes. Mario said, “Tracy, Caye’s teaching you about keyframes”. I gave you some directorial advice by saying the effects should never outdistance the message of your presentation, and that you should just use a couple of transitions to keep some sort of thematic unity. It was longest conversation about Keynote I’ve had in my life.
We eat a lot. You would’ve liked that I think. We laugh at lot, but not as loud like before. We still don’t understand the stock market, and we’ve always expected that you do because, well, you wear a tie to work. We don’t know whether we should keep our money in PhilAm. In one of our last conversations that night, you told me to keep it in there, so I will. We stay up really late. If you were here you would’ve fallen asleep on the couch like you always do.
Corinne’s getting by. Having no idea how to help her, we just stay with her as much as we can. Her left eye is popping out though. Also she’s on a black dress thing now, and despite everything she looks kinda hot. The daytime is rougher on her because we all have work. I told her I’d have a desk for her in our new office once we’ve finished renovating but she says it’s too far. “Farkeo”, she says.
Forty days later and it still feels the same. A lot of people have told us that time heals everything. No sign of that so far, but one can hope.
I miss you man.
Caye and us
