I have a photo of Brian on my computer screen.
It was during his last birthday party.
He wears a parti-colored cone hat,
With big bright stars on it, as if to remind us all
There is a cosmic Power above us, great and tall.
Behind him are colorful cut-out letters stretched out to spell:
Happy Birthday!!!
And Brian smiling broadly and brightly into the camera,
With his left hand lifted to wave.
Oh, God, it breaks my heart to know,
That just four months later,
My precious friend Brian would be in his grave!
Away from me, away from all the world.
Those bright brown eyes, looking at the camera,
Did not have much more life left to see.
Sometimes when I click on my computer,
And I see that image, I say:
"Happy Birthday, Brian!"
I have decided to make every day Brian's birthday.
The way, when he was alive, I always celebrated with him,
A full birthday month, every day following his birthday
Being celebrated as another birthday, in his birthday month.
I wanted him to feel how worthwhile he was, you see,
To help him keep away from depression and despondency,
Which sometimes got him even when his life was relatively going well.
Sometimes I speak to Brian's smiling beaming face:
"I love you, Brian.  I miss you, my precious friend."
But I don't need to see his picture for that.
I recall how Brian often used to say to me--
Looking at me sidelong, with an expression of happiness,
Sitting in his chair right next to me: "I love you, you know."
Yes, Brian, I know.  I knew.  And I know.
And I still say frequently to you: "I love you, Brian."
Now I often say it to you the way you used to say it to me:
"Hey, Brian--I love you, you know."  He knew.
I hope he also--somewhere, somehow--still knows.
Or that in good time he will come to good new life, and know again.
I hope and pray that Brian has not truly lost his last living day.
Our relationship was complex in character, but simple in love.
We started out as brothers of the soul; so many good times!
We liked and enjoyed so many of the same things in life.
Where we differed, we learned from each other new things.
Then, when Brian had his break-down, I gave him great compassion,
And he in his innocent loving heart, gave me great loving gratitude.
I took care of him after that, doing for him the things he could not.
For Brian, I could do anything--stand up to anyone--I could be strong.
I shouldered many of his burdens for him.  He told me more than once:
"I used to feel so hopeless and so lost, Michael.  Until you came along."
When I was filling out his income tax for him, or writing papers
To help him mend his troubles at work; or taking care of the bills,
Or cooking or preparing our meals, when we decided to eat at home,
He would thank me for doing those things and other things for him.
Often, just out of the blue, he would look at me and say:
"I'm so glad I met you, Michael."  I always replied:
"I'm glad I met you too, Brian."  Then, when he finally lost his job,
I paid for everything for the both of us, and I took care of my friend
For the rest of his life.  I sadly wish his short life could have been long.
Very often, he would say: "Michael.  Are you still glad you met me?"
"Yes, Brian, I'm very glad I met you," I would say.
After he became ill, he sometimes would say:
"Am I burden to you, Michael?  Do you still not mind taking care of me?"
I would say, "No, Brian.  You are my treasured friend.
You are a blessing in my life, not a burden."  He truly was a blessing;
His kind heart, so childlike and innocent, was so open to the joy of life;
When he was happy, his smile or his laughter blessed me with their joy.
He only wanted to fit in, accepted and appreciated.  He had knowledge,
And abilities; just some things he couldn't do--but he helped me, too.
Sometimes he would say: "Do you still enjoy my company?"
I would reply, "Yes, Brian, I enjoy your company--more than anyone's."
Sometimes he even said: "Do you mind me asking you these things?"
"No, Brian.  You ask whatever you want, whenever you feel like it."
He would say, "Good.  I just need to hear it again, sometimes."
Brian was happy, most of the time; everything about him told me so.
And now, his diary, which I found, also tells me so.  He loved me,
As a brother of his soul, and as someone often in a sort of fatherly role.
I loved him, as a brother of my soul; and as someone whose depression
And pain and insecurities and feelings of not belonging, I understood;
For I had suffered such things in my teens, and I knew Brian was good.
Well, my friend Brian--we were so close and caring of each other,
That some people sometimes thought we might be gay.
But we weren't gay.  Not at all.
We just knew each other's hearts very well,
And we loved each other, and had learned over time
How much we had in common, past and present;
And we hoped to share our future time.
All the time that Brian had left was shared with me.
Now, I share my time with him, in loving memory.
Brian--my oncologist told me yesterday--after two doctors had hinted--
My oncologist told me explicitly.  I told my oncologist about my visit
With the other two doctors.  I said: "I had a bad feeling--
I felt almost that they were handing down a death sentence to me."
My oncologist moved his hand above a sheaf of papers on his desk,
And tapped it with his forefinger; he said, "This is it."
I replied, "What?"
He picked up the sheaf of papers and handed them to me:
"This is your death sentence," he said.  I looked at the papers;
This was the report from my last scan.
What a way to tell me I soon would not be a living man.
"This is your death sentence."  My death sentence has been given to me.
So, Brian, my friend--I will be leaving life soon, becoming one of the dead.
Just one of the dead.  Like the ER doctor did to you,
My cancer will do to me.  I hope desperately, and pray fervently,
That you somehow still live, or will live again, my precious friend.
Maybe, if God's grace is great enough, and His love large enough, for me,
I may live also, after cancer snuffs out the candle of my dreams.
I hope and pray that we may embrace as brothers of the soul, again,
My friend, my very best friend of all my life, Brian.
I miss you so very badly, so very sadly, my friend.
I love you, you know.
I love you, Brian.

==============================
Written by Michael LP, aka MLP
aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC, aka (thanks to Luna Marie) Mr. Poet
Written on Friday, May 6, 2011  6:55 pm PDT
93 degrees F.  Humidity: 6%  Forecast: fair
Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael LP.  All rights reserved
(I still copyright my writings, for my estate)