Here's the poem I wrote and read for Peter at his memorial. I'm very excited to be heading to New Jersey to spend time with one of his best friends, drink tequila, and hear all of her crazy stories of a man who was so damn incredible!
I remember the whites and blues
The yellow lawn chairs with wooden arm rests
the sandy asphalt crackling beneath my bicycle tires
Your house was small
gray with green shutters
a rectangle full of a spirit that breathed light into it’s otherwise dim space
you were a man of intrigue
Your intensity scared me sometimes
but I liked that you didn’t talk to me like a child
You chose your words carefully and talked in a way that was slow and with intention
I remember riding my bike home to the other side of the island
the blue jays off in the distance
thinking you were special to me
admiring your intelligence
I promised myself then that I would never float through this life
that I would question things
that I would live with my heart on my sleeve
and that I would make you proud
I don’t know why I wanted so badly to make you proud
but I did and I still do.
There are parts of you I never got to know
I know there was darkness, sadness, maybe loneliness
but I also know, mostly, there was light, joy, love, and passion.
I know there was music, games of croquet, snowmen, two ducks and a goose
I’ll remember you listening to music in your kitchen
while I floated in your hammock dreaming of the life ahead of me
not imagining I would be standing here talking about you in the past tense
not imagining I would never get to ask all of the questions I was too young to ask then
not imagining that I could miss someone so much
and certainly not imagining a world without you
The only way I know how to honor you
is to shoot from the hip
to be unapologetically who I am
to always seek the truth.
And when I am really missing you
I’ll turn up your music
and dance around the kitchen
because I know it’s just what you would do.