Rob was a river rat, tree flying trimmer extraordinaire, coffee-drinking-from-a-mason-jar, dreamboat prairie man who dated some of my pals over the years and could best be seen walking down Massachusetts street with his dog. We always smiled, occasionally hugged and said, “How you doing?” and even more occasionally talked for a few minutes. He was part of the landscape for me but a very close friend of some of my close friends. I miss seeing him in front of the Bourgeois Pig, his long hair flowing and dog trailing.
Their absence feels like a shadow presence, just beyond what I can see, much like I feel about others close to me who died, and particularly, died suddenly. I still think of them as if they were just here, just alive — my child brain unable to grasp how people can vanish. A year ago, I couldn’t begin to imagine Rob and Mark gone. A year from now, I wonder who precious to this community will have died. There’s no way of knowing, and the weight of this sweetens the deal of living.
Picture: Rob, and then Mark (on right) with Gary at Nat’s graduation party
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