blustocking | September 30th, 2000

I came across some photos while looking for a specific shot. Shot. Funny that I should choose that word...

I came across some photos. Some photos of Brian...typing that last sentence makes me cry and I wish I were not at work...I decided to scan them in because he was a part of my life, a too-short part. A part that broke off mid-sentence. I still wish I would have known him in those years after we stopped talking. I heard things here and there, little pieces too late. I decided to look up his name on a search engine because I couldn't remember how long it's been...and I came across this:

"See the snapshots of Brian Gwaltney – an outstanding citizen, a successful business manager, a happy man walking home with his girlfriend from a video store. See the snapshots of Brian, his life ebbing from his body, as he lay brutally shot on a street sidewalk." They left out what a completely remarkable artist he was.

I still have to repeat it in my head, "Brian's dead." I'd say it over and over again after it happened. As if repetition would make it bearable, believable. I saw his grave in the winter of that year, covered in snow, lit a candle to burn out in the cold winter wind. I don't know why this affects me so much. Is it the tragedy? The sheer circumstances surrounding his departure? The regret. I haven't cried in months and months, fought it back on lonely nights, but now blubbering like a damn slob, I am dumbfounded. It's not right. Is it ever? To go out in dull, mindless violence to protect someone you love.

And then, this
And oddly enough, here, a little way down. And here.
And again.

Brian, shortly after I met him.
And, below, at our Senior fashion page photoshoot. In high school, they even tried to start a Brian and Jill Day where everyone would wear black. Only a few people, including one teacher, participated. I guess...high school wasn't that bad after all...maybe.

I want to make the world weep. This boy here, this one, is dead. Shot and buried, forever away from his friends and his loved ones. He's lying in the ground and it seems unreal to me that he should not stir. I don't even wish for a connection, an explanation, to know about him once again should he awaken...though it would be nice. I merely wish him life because he deserved it. It's when those who deserve life so much, hurt so much when it's abruptly taken. Taken carelessly, without regard, over money and possession