He left behind so little for me to piece together. There was one photo of him with a timestamp of 91 with the Pyramids at his back. Over dinner he passed it off that he was in Rome too, years from that. But not much else, save for the little notes he left on Facebook. Poems from ’81. I’m sure he wrote more than that. I wouldn’t know. Right around a month after I came back from that Manila trip, right after the entire whirlwind, I pined for his books, his notes. Didn’t find anything to keep save I had three other little ones who knew about it save for me – I’m a big brother to four souls. That’s a tough duty. My cousin sent me a photo of himself and our estranged Lola, who to the accounts of my silver maternal grandfather, ‘left him for another man’. He didn’t ask any further than the usual niceties, my cousin, since the first and the last time since we saw her we were still learning how to jerk off. Fifteen years ago. The father of her first three (disputed, four) children was dead to him but the seed, the progeny had found its way from Boston, to Sydney, and a long drive of three days down to Adelaide. Now my cousin and I have to piece it all together too on our side of the family.
But look at that. I’m trying to write contracts down and planning the next financial moves but, what for? Told my cousin I’ll be over there in SYD by ’18. If the world doesn’t fall apart. I’d be in HK in 6 months, but Hendri says it’s too far out to tell. Back in ’17 I swore I had to be at Basel. Just to prove something after the breakup. Or was I?
He was in Rome, and Egypt, in the States too, in Jersey. Even my grandfather spent a tragic two years there as a bus driver till he went home to deal with woman problems. And then my mom and him too. Old Richard made him kneel infront the archbishop and had the press blackmailed, that’s what he told me on the steps of the church he built when he died. Look how things circle around. And we’re left with a great many things for us to piece together as much as we’re trying to piece ours.