posted an elegy for Greg… I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about the anniversary; I thought about it briefly yesterday morning but managed to put it out of my mind for the rest of the day.

Reading ‘s excellent poem has thrown open the door and made it impossible for me to avoid Greg right now. I guess I’m thankful; Greg was an excellent friend and repressing the memories of our friendship does him no justice.

I find it interesting that eight years later, our circle is still very damaged by Greg’s passing. We seem to find it impossible to discuss our feelings and accept the death. I think it is at least partially due to the fact that Greg had been away for so long and was due back in another four months. We never really got to say goodbye. Greg’s death is still the unacknowledged interloper in the room. We still expect him to come back from Guam as he promised us he would.

Sometimes, late at night after uncounted drinks, sometimes it is possible to have short broken conversations about how much we miss him. “Damn, I miss Greg.” “Yes.”

I wrote this that day.

ladies and gentlemen, greg wolferd has left the planet

i’m at work
another day
phone rings… constant interruption
a good friend says
i’ve got bad news
greg’s dead
my world changes

lovely greg
always up
a mean joke
is often funny
but this one
has gone too far

twelve short years
always caring
a better friend
than I could ever be

hanging with greg
always great
i’ll always remember
the slow speed chase

The last line refers to the O. J. Simpson Bronco chase. I had the extreme luck to be hanging out at Greg’s house on the night of O. J.’s attempted escape. We went to a liquor store in Wilmington to get beer and the guy behind the counter had posted a big sign in the front of the store that read “Where’s O. J.?”

Greg made some Greg comment to the guy behind the counter. The counterman responded with surprising vehemence about ‘that wife-killing bastard’. For the rest of the night Greg kept giggling and remarking about ‘that wife-killing bastard’. It looks so flat in text.

Every memory of Greg sparkles with humor and vibrancy.

I have a laser printer that I got from Greg. The thing is a boat anchor, utterly useless now for printing. It’s one of my only tangeable links to Greg now, so I will never get rid of it. I call it the Greg Wolferd Memorial Laser Printer. Someday I’ll tell you more about it.

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