Alan Wormser Memorial

Alan rarely looked sad when he and I were together, but on the occasions when his sadness at losing Kerynn bubbled up and I was physically with him, I was amazed at how Alan looked. There was a depth in his eyes and a sense of emptiness around him. Holding his hand and looking around his kitchen, I saw evidence of Kerynn that matched the absence I sensed in him. The collection of example spoons from a multitude of different silverware patterns, the Kool-Aid Man shaped water pitcher, and the Pillsbury Dough Boy clock were Kerynn inspired things in the kitchen. I never felt like there was a ghost living with us in Alan's house, but when he looked like he was missing her, and I took notice of Kerynn's things, it all made sense to me. I could sense the presence of the absence in Alan's life.

Now I'm in his shoes. Now I have the presence of the absence of Alan and the Alan inspired trinkets left behind. I went outside today and felt the sun on my face and the wind around me. I knew Alan wasn't even on the planet to enjoy this beautiful weather, and I hate that. I think about the things that aren't happening because of the absence of Alan. There are hundreds. A friend of mine that worked with Alan said his desk hasn't been touched. The National Guard archeologists aren't getting advice from him. The ham radio operators aren't talking to him during rush hour. His niece isn't going to his house for a fun weekend with Uncle Alan. He's not reassuring me that my life will turn out alright every night. He's not asking for me to return his watch. He's not showing up once a month to hug me and erase all my fears by just holding me. And he's not reminding me every day that he loves me.

I witnessed the absence of Kerynn, and I helped Alan cope. I am now feeling the absence of Alan and trying to cope. It's a passing of the baton that I hope stops here.