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- Photo from Degas Magdalena Lopez.
Degas Magdalena Lopez remembers Gabe Zimmerman, the congressional aide who was among those killed three years ago at Gabby Giffords’ Congress on Your Corner:
Dear Gabe,
Hey. I miss you. It’s been too long. I used to love unexpectedly seeing your handsome face at the bar. I swear, I could feel your smile through walls, before I even saw you. Sometimes, when I walk into a bar now, I’ll see someone who looks enough like you that I momentarily forget to breathe. Then I stare at the person uncomfortably for a long time, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, almost as if I’m challenging them to prove they’re not you.
It hurts.
I don’t know if I’ll ever reconcile the fact that I won’t ever just happen to run into you again. It’s just not fair. But beyond not being fair, it’s just simply incomprehensible. I won’t serendipitously run into you, when I’m alone after being stood up for the second time in a row, feeling heavy and near tears, and share your beer. We won’t keep trying fruitlessly to make those plans to go hiking on a sunny day. You won’t call me up out of the blue to invite me to volunteer with you.
I can’t delete your phone number from my phone, even though I’m sure the number doesn’t belong to you anymore. I mean, how could I? It still “belongs” to you, right? I can’t remember how many times I called you that day 3 years ago, listening to the phone ring and ring, hearing your voice mail greeting over and over, unable to hang up. Hoping over and over that the next time I called would be the time that you answered.
It’s not fair, and it’s incomprehensible.
And I know that it’s wrong that I try not to think about you on days like today, and your birthday, because I’m still so sad and it still hurts so much. I should close my eyes tight and picture your face in my mind. I should try to remember what your voice sounded like. I should spend hours trying to recall the sloping, tangled pathways of the conversations that we used to have. I know that everyone who knew you will never forget you. We will never forget all of the magical things you created, the comfort you brought to our lives, and the good you did. You were a powerful, brilliant guiding light for so many, and one that could not be truly extinguished.
I love you, and I miss you.
It’s been too long.
This article appears in Jan 2-8, 2014.
It’s not fair, and it’s incomprehensible.
And yet it is
Beautifully written
For everyone who has lost someone.
This honors and captures the essence an amazing man who was snatched from us ruthlessly. I am saddened by the loss, yet also hopeful knowing there are those who still carry that loss every day, living with gratitude, dignity and honor.
Gabe was my camp counselor at Camp Kinderland when I was a teenager and I would without a doubt not be the man I am today had I not had the blessing of having him as a counselor, role model and friend. As a young person struggling with all of the issues that come with growing up, Gabe’s boundless positivity and just straight up, for back of a better word, “goodness” helped inspire me and guide me to be better, because I wanted to be like him. It’s a true rarity to meet someone who shines with so bright a light that it illuminates and ignites all of those around them, and Gabe was one of those people. He was loved by and will be dearly missed by everyone who lucky enough to spend time with him.
I didn’t know him but this was a lovely elegy to an obviously beloved man. Stay strong, Ms. Lopez and know, to use the words of Stephen King, that you’ll meet again in the clearing at the end of the path.
Wow beautiful tribute to your friend Degas. A lost treasure to our community but not forgotten.