September 30, 2002
Five years ago, when he flew in for his sister’s wedding, he was still a boy to all of us – backward baseball cap, hair waving below his ears, scraggly mustache and goatee, sunglasses (of course the sunglasses).
But this is a portrait of a man immersed in shades of gray. Off-center. Shadowed. Unsmiling. Uncompromising. An artist, maybe. Or an avenger.
If I saw him on the street, would I recognize him as the sweet little boy I sang to sleep? “Try to remember the kind of September when you were a tender and callow fellow…”
But this is a portrait of a man assailed by shades of gray, bleak black times, futures plagued by shadows.
This is a portrait of man I don’t know if I know. I try to remember that tender and callow fellow, that toddler, that boy, taken from me by time and space and a quest to wrestle shadows.
I wonder if I will ever come to know the man. That man in black.
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