Dear Captain Blake

Dear Captain Blake,

If you weren’t going to tell me that you would die,

At least tell me about

The thoughts that must have

Whirled around inside your head

Three years ago.

Tell me about

How you think prescription painkillers and ambulance sirens

And the tears of the entire world

Make for better music than

Trombones and crash cymbals and baseballs on bats.

Tell me about

The future you gave up,

The one where you played better than

Babe Ruth and Jackie Robinson, and also

J.J. Johnson and Wycliffe Gordon--

Or at least the one where you promised

You’d be my trombone captain forever.

Tell me about

The unconditional friendship and support

You offered everyone around you, and

How brightly your passion for everything radiated off of you, and

If you knew that

You were always a hero to me,

Even on those days when I was your villain.

Tell me about

How that must have meant nothing to you

Since it didn’t stop you from listening to

All the vicious people in your life who liked to portray you as

Vulgar and reckless and

Undeserving of respect and

Unworthy of love--

All the vicious people who liked to say everything

Except for the truth about you.

Tell me about

How wonderful you were.

And then tell me about

How you let everyone convince you that

You weren’t.

Dear Captain Blake,

If you weren’t going to tell me that you would die,

At least tell me what made you do it.

Maybe then it wouldn’t still hurt after all these years.

From an old friend who misses you