Shamus it’s your birthday today. I wanted to be thinking of you especially today. It’s your day. Shmee-day.
I’ve been waiting all day — essentially — to have some Jameson in your honor. Because of which, I’ve been thinking about you all day. I still miss you. I think about you a bunch. I love you, man. Still do. It’s odd to not have you here. It’s odd to think of you and automatically see the word “talented.” Naturally, I think of how talented you are. You did something I never could. You went to the Arts High School. You played music. You lived your life the way you wanted too. You were an artist. I looked up to you. You inspired me. You were carefree, helpful, friendly, loving and kind.
And the fact that you killed yourself doesn’t change that. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t make me hate you. It makes me scared to think of all the other kids — just like you — that have committed suicide. That left their dreams behind. And no one will ever be able to tell me “This is what was happening. He killed himself for” this, that, and the other. Fuck that. I wasn’t there. We weren’t talking together. Who the hell knows what happened. I sure as hell don’t.
At any rate.
I miss you.
I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, and I don’t particularly mind — having an intense connection. I love feeling like you’re still here. You are. I feel you. I see you. I am not alone and neither are you. We’re still having good times. And that’s alright.
Thank you for tonight. Thank you for the song. Thank you for your spirit. Hell, it’s your birthday! Where else should it be, eh? In Liquor Lyle’s at 10PM on Mother’s Day.
I miss you, sir. I think of you daily and will continuely. You’re fucking awesome. The tales you told and the life you led — fucking awesome. Thank you for you. Thank you for being apart of my life and thank you for continuing to be a part of my life. I love having you here, sir. Let’s keep the party alive!