An uneven weight
(I originally wrote this a few weeks after Amber and Bobby died but I didn’t publish it for some reason)
Amongst the mourners and tears, while words like “special,” “energetic” and “beautiful” were being applied in spades to a friend who was more than the definitions of those words, I noticed a lack of an element, a keystone in the drama surrounding Amber’s death. Beyond an allusion in the opening of the funeral, Bobby Isley simply did not exist. Granted, it was – and still is – on many peoples’ minds. Yet his ghost found no purchase with anyone that day and it was roundly and silently rejected by all in attendance. It wasn’t right for him to be there and this was made concrete by the fact that the woman he had loved was now in a casket, placed there by his hand.
I would like to make it clear that I don’t hate Bobby for what he did. I’ve turned over the words “Bobby killed Amber” in my head for just over a week now and it leaves no taste of anger or spite; if anything, it lingers bittersweet and fading as each day passes. While neither death has really become true for me, his seems more distant and intangible. I saw Amber’s body, I saw the family and friends alike mourn and celebrate her all at once. For Bobby, the distance is that much more difficult to process, the absolute madness of why I struggle to mourn him in the first place like a fog that he deigns to peer through every so often. I think that between my group of friends who knew both of them, we all try to remember the positive things about him and try to focus instead on the Bobby we knew and not the Bobby he died as.
The thing that bothers me the most is how I celebrate Amber – and rightly I should – but when Bobby’s face materializes in my memory, there’s an urge to regard it for a moment and move on. That uneven weight of memory, tainted by cold fact and detail, makes it hard for me look at him in as light as bright as I do for Amber. It bothers me even more that I don’t want to celebrate his life; it doesn’t seem appropriate. There is a tainted feel to it that directly contradicts my attempts to keep my memories of him in a positive light. All of the little negatives and quibbles I had about Amber are meaningless, yet with Bobby… they remain, question marks in a tragedy with no answers.
I will try my hardest to think of both of them and to focus on how our brief but energetic friendships changed me. I will look through old photos, ponder about the random little circumstances that remind me of them, and talk with my friends about All Those Good Times. Maybe over time, that weight I feel will balance out somewhat but for now, and for a while to yet, Amber will remain in light and Bobby will remain in darkness.