Remembering my friend Dennis Meyer
Michael Safdiah

5:18 PM 9/3/96
My friend Dennis Meyer died this afternoon.
He wasn't supposed to,
he was supposed to make it thru this fucking plague,
he had fought for so very long,
He fought bravely and tirelessly.
he had scraped thru so many near-misses.
his resolve to stay above it never flagged.
he made it his business
to learn about every new drug,
in detail.
He knew of every clinical trial
even before they happened!

Dennis was dauntless,
He is an inspiration to me to keep on truckin'
and not to give up
because somebody says things are hopeless.
they tell me I'm a survivor
Dennis - YOU are the survivor,
even in death.
Okay, he wasn't perpetually cheerful
or positive,
I don't know anyone who could be,
with all the shit he had to deal with.

I want to eulogize him,
to say some words to help him
(and me)
along with all of this...
my eyes are flowing with tears now,
and I can't see the screen,
I am happy he had wonderful loving friends
who never left his side right on thru to the end,
I'm priviledged I was one of those who made sure
he knew that he was not, and never would be alone.
Dennis, you will always be with me.
God on high, please bring him to where you are,
bring him home,
give him grace, and peace;
and send some part of him back to me, amen.

The Memorial
man these things can be grim
Dennis Meyer At rest far too soon
Sunday, Sept 22, 1996 I am speechless with pain.
I just left Dennis' memorial. I arrived late,
after the eulogizing was finished,
I had thought that there wasn't going to be any of that,
But I had hoped
that I might have been able
to speak a few words,
but I went late
I avoided being early.
No words I could have said could have been enough.
Not enough to do justice for a life like his.

There wasn't a chance to do
anything more than
be there for the people
who were left behind.
Imagine me shy about speaking in front of people.
They gave me the framed photo of him,
The one they used at the memorial,
one I am certain he would have hated,
but it was Dennis and he was smiling
And it was the only one I ever had of him, so I took it.
Half smiling, half afraid maybe,
that the camera might make him look ugly.
I left with my prize, and walked down on Ninth Avenue,
feeling I'm not sure what.

You know the film cliché
where you see the street?
deserted.
not a single sign of life
Not a bird,
not a dog, or a cat, or a person...
and that sole garbage can
is blowing around in the wind?
Nothing,
you get it? Nothing,
That's how I felt.
I was so angry
My friend was gone.
my rage was blocking everything.

I drew myself toward the part of my world
where there is life.
I needed the living,
that's why I was at 71 Bay,
listening to the distant surf from my bed.
the deafening crickets,
the birds, screaming,
the wind howling and the leaves in my trees,
ceaseless noise!
All voicing my own unspeakable muted rage.

This weekend, barring a hurricane,
I will take Lulu to the beach
and spend the day relaxing
and making some plans.