Late afternoon I decided to go. I haven't been able to visit before, as I wasn't sure what it would be like to be in the place where it happened. A year later and I found the strength to go and take it in. Somewhat faded, but still present, are the signs that something still so uncertain and unanswered happened there. I sat on the curb at the edge of the parking lot, next to the scuff mark, running my hand over it, and gazed at the road below. Part of me wanted to run out into the street to stop the cars going by, asking them how could they just drive by -- didn't they know what happened here?
The sunlight was streaming through the trees and across the road, in that warm early Fall light that is so magical, and my attempt at a photo to capture it at first seemed to not turn out, but when I looked again, I realized that instead of any indications of the red spray paint on the pavement, the entire area was all awash in bright white light and it took my breath away for a few moments. And that is how I shall remember it. Not the signs of a tragedy, but just peace.
This evening, I watched the sun set down on the water on the shores of Lincoln Park, which is one of my favorite places. There are still so many feelings, from sadness and anger to comfort and acceptance, but the dominant one is gratitude. For having had you as a friend versus not having known you at all. You had a way of making all of your friends and loved ones feel special, and it's why we all adored you so. You looked for the best in people and in situations. Time passes and the days, weeks, seasons, and years will come and go, but I'll never forget you. You continue to inspire me to be a better person. You were one of the most generous people I've ever known, and if I can be even a fraction of that, then mine will be a life well lived.
Like yours.
