As impossible as it is to believe, Wednesday marks three seemingly endless years since Amir went on ahead and left us behind to endure this life without him. The vast, cavernous hole of his absence in our lives never shrinks, however we strive to fill it with love and support, of which my sister, my parents and I are lucky to have from so many sides. On those occasions when I allow my brain to venture into territory unbefitting of an otherwise optimistic, hopeful human, I ponder how sad it is not to believe in some sort of life after death, if only because I wish so badly I could see Amir again. Then, inching further down that depressing rabbit hole, I think that if I did believe in an afterlife, I'd consider killing myself just to be with him again--even just to spend a few precious hours talking to him. Then, I think how fucking furious he would be with me if I did that and how he'd kick my sorry ass all the way back to the land of the living. Then, as I often do when thinking of Amir, I laugh to myself at the idea of how he'd react to such ridiculousness.
For those who knew him well enough to be beneficiaries of his wit and cleverness, Amir's absence is painfully reflected in the acute decline of sharp humor in our lives and will continue to be felt through the years. As far as I'm concerned, every fucking day that goes by without a snarky text or email from my brother is deficient, for as much as I strive to acquire life's essential levity and ridiculousness from other sources, none will never match what Amir dished out. Nor would I want it to--he had a sharp tongue unlike no other.
So, in asking all of you to remember and celebrate Amir this week specifically, I'll share some further glimpses into his singular mind (from various emails):
Sept. 2005: I'm shamelessly enjoying some Hall and Oates on the radio, nursing my second beer, and missing you intensely, as I have not a soul to share my BRUTALLY APOCALYPTIC thoughts with. With love and disgust, Amir (self-style black sheep of Prizant lineage).
Oct. 2007: After talking to Yael today, I am now firmly convinced that we are a clan Under the Gun. Somebody, something is clearly testing Team Prizant and, of course, we are more than ready to meet the challenge. I can't remember a time in which we've experienced so much uncertainty as a family. I too feel as if I'm in limbo, and change is a foregone conclusion. As for you, I ask that you remember Timon and Pumbaa from "The Lion King" and the wisdom of "Hakuna Matata," which means "no worries." Bobby McFerrin may have been on to something after all. I have no doubt that you will succeed, against all odds. I'll stick with the gambling metaphors and tell you that my money's on YOU; I'm willing to bet the farm that everything will work out fine, as it always does.
Dec. 2009: Bored at work, though I did just have a 50-year-old woman introduce herself to me as the "resident cougar" of the tennis club. I suppose she was hitting on me, though it was hard to see her facial expression through all the Botox.
