Ode to Bobby

Most of us are strong enough to over come the massive traumas life has to offer.The small things, or better yet the accumulation there of are what breaks some of us.
Bobby shot himself 11 years ago. His family cleaned up the garage where he slept and where it happened.Then they padlocked the door to his amp repair shop where he worked, and is adjacent to the garage.So devastated were they that they could not bear to dispose of his belongings. So they remain untouched, just as the day he left them. While working at his family's house,I found myself in need of some tools he might have there.I was given the key and unlocked the padlock.It is though I had gone back in time.Everything was in it's place , just as he had left it.
The bill of my baseball cap became entangled in cobwebs.I was looking for a square, a level, and some assorted drill bits. This is the place where we spoke of kite flying and design, of frequency response, and tube amp repair. A place where we looked into each others eyes , and knew we were different. I found myself looking for something other than tools. Answers ?
I feel him there, knowing he sees me. All the while I stand there, wishing he were alive, so that I could ask the questions no one but Bobby could answer.

Hollywood,Ca. 2002