Spilt Wine

I read your journal today while you were under a morphine-induced sleep. I was intrigued by your thoughts about memories and your conclusion that they die with you in the end. You were so right when you wrote that my memories of us playing guitar differ from yours. Though when your time comes and those memories that you have of our friendship will go along with you, know this; the memories I have kept have become more precious, because that’s all I have left of you. Thankfully I have a lot, which means I have a lot of you to keep.

I don’t know what your thoughts and feelings are about us playing music together but it appears that they are good and important to you, since the first thing you said to me when I arrived was something about new strings in the office. Our friendship was founded on music, and it was music that brought us closer together. My heart danced while jamming on the guitars together and there were times when the jam sessions were going so well, I felt some sort of cosmos connection with you and the music that we were creating. It is a damn shame we only got to record a handful of the songs.

You are a better musician than I and I have been honored to jam with, and more so, I have been honored to be one of your best friends. I love you Jason and thanks for all of the great memories.