Me culpa: I'm a dick

Jody's friend Jenn sent me a little package late in May; I got it a week ago today. I still haven't phoned, e-mailed, or responded in any way. I meant to! I really did. But there are some inadequacy issues...

First of all, she's moved around a lot, and she e-mails very rarely, so I'm not sure I even have her correct address. I talked to Jody's dad Tuesday evening and he gave me her phone number, but I hate phoning people. I'm not the most spontaneous conversationalist... I prefer media like this where I have time to compose my thoughts. Like now... I'm about to get up for a cup of coffee. Be right back...

There. Miss me? So anyway... Jenn seems to be doing a lot to keep Jody's memory alive. She sent me a tiny piece of agate from the road near the driveway to his home when he was in high school. She sent photographs — I mean the real, glossy, hold-in-your-hand photos like we used to have before computers — some of which I hadn't seen before. I found myself looking at them and wishing I'd known him, and having to remind myself I had already been his friend for two or three years when they were taken! Jody and I had a deeply intimate relationship on the spiritual level, but we were completely alienated physically by distance. This is the world we're living in. I probably only spoke to him on the phone a half a dozen times. Anyway... there were other items... a brochure from UNM, questions from a logic test I can't begin to understand, a little plastic cheetah I've placed on the cedar chest with his ashes, and, most touching of all, a bracelet she made for him, but never got to give him. I'm wearing it right now. It's cleverly, beautifully constructed of alternating short black beads, and longer amber beads with black spots... a cheetah motif. Cheetahs, as you may by now have guessed, were Jody's all-time favourite animal. In her letter, Jenn said she thought it was appropriate I should have the bracelet.

So you see, I'm a dick for not getting back to her right away. The way I expressed it to Jim (Jody's dad) is that I feel like the Little Drummer Boy. I have no gift to bring, pa-rum-pa-pa-pum. She knew Jody face to face... all I really have of him is my memories, my logged conversations. I don't feel like there's anything I can give back. I guess I've partly been holding back, hoping that inspiration would hit me and give me the answer. Something worth responding with. But I have to bite the bullet and own up that really, all I have is my gratitude.

The other reason I don't want to phone is, like, she's married (or as good as). That always feels awkward. "Hi, can I talk to your wife?"