Messages for Hanna

Hanna, your words and impact have touched my life in a way that is incredibly difficult to put in words. I only met you the one time at a reading in December of 2024 but your words and kindness had such an immeasurable impact upon me. I have mostly known you through the stories that Teddi told of you. The light that you have shone upon her life resonated through every word she spoke of you and I am so immensely grateful to have gotten to know even a fraction of your shine through those tales. Your words, kindness, and care hold such incredible power and warmth. So long as my memory holds, I will remember you. I handwrote a journal entry the only day that I ever saw you. I always meant to send it to you somehow but for one reason or another I never did. Always having meant to say something is a bit of a funny thing isn't it? As much as I may wish that I had delivered this entry to you sooner rather than now, I figure there's no sense in wishing when there' still doing to be done. "12-10-2024 Hanna, after your reading I found myself in a strange state of clarity, perhaps my eyes could see more clearly having been washed in the saline of tears I hadn't known I needed to shed. I stepped into the saddle of my motorbike with a sense of wandering purpose. Usually I would simply plug in the navigation to my home in Mt. Washington but this time I did not. I turned the key and rode with a vague idea of the part of town I wanted to end up in. Getting a little lost I eventually found y way to the part of town I had taken up residence when I first arrived in Pittsburgh in 2019. I passed a job I had recently lost on the way, then found myself passing by the alleyway of the first job I'd held in Pittsburgh where I had met one of the love's of my life. A girl to whom my last text message to reads "Sorry buttdial". I passed the apartments I had lived in with an abusive ex. I passed a doggy daycare I had worked at for a couple of months. I passed my second apartment in the city and the gas station I was a regular at. I rode down to the tattoo shop where I got my first piercing and I went down to the parking lot of the vet clinic I had worked at for a time and gazed over the river. I made my way back the path I had taken to go visit my favorite bar. Blue Moon. A place I have a complicated history with to say the least. Much to my dismay, they were closed this beautiful Monday eve. Undeterred from my mission I stopped at Beer on Butler and grabbed a 4 pack of Guinness and a pack of cigarettes that remind me of a friend I no longer speak with, made my way to my beloved Getgo on 40th St. and got a mushroom and Swiss burger(^my go to when I first became disabled), a couple purple gatorades, and asked the attendant to select the silliest lighter she could. She laughed and asked if I was sure or had a preference on size. Yes, and no respectively. She closed her eyes and picked one of hundreds. "Keep your spirit high!" it says with a little smiling orange spectre over top. "I intend to" I said as we both knowingly chuckled. I glided down 40th st, turned onto Foster, then again past the ghost of my favorite mulberry tree long since cut down. I parked my bike and stepped onto the familiar trail under the 40th st. bridge. I had released a mouse I had caught in this very spot a few years ago. Carefully, I scrambled down the rocks to the bank of the Allegheny river and took a seat on a rock, precariously balancing my helmet by the cat ears I had glued on, I unwrapped my burger and cracked open the Guinness. Thoroughly jostled by our journey the can sputtered and spewed. I held it upside down briefly. "A fitting sacrifice" I thought. "Pouring one out for a homie" as it were. Finished finally of it's fizzy fit I finished opening the can and took a hearty swig before setting it as securely as I could beside my helmet, taking care to press the bottom of the can into the leafy debris for some semblance of stability. I ate my burger, alternating between bites and beverage tossing a wayward slice of mushroom into the depths. As my meal came to it's conclusion I gazed over the river and lit a cigarette. Once again alternating, this time between drags and dregs and truly sat with myself. It's been a while since I had made my own company on purpose. I don't tend to enjoy being alone with myself. Peaceful and ponderous. A rarity for me these days. As I finished my brew and meditation I found myself strangely calm. I rode home to my dog with an astonishingly clear head. I am often afraid of the future. For a moment though, I wasn't for the first time in what felt like years. As I write this I once again find myself a worry wort. Unsure of how I'll fold today into tomorrow. But I hope I never forget this evening, where I took a journey for myself and had a guinness and a burger for my new friend Hanna. I do not know what the future holds for me but I am unbelievably grateful that I've met you. Your words sparked something deep within me and your artistry has touched my soul. I've often been moved by art but your art has changed me. Even today as I write this and worry about tomorrow my vision still feels clearer than it had before. The "l'appel du vide" as I so often am plagued by feels quieter than usual. I feel as though I simply must move forward. No longer out of obligation, but out of desire. Thank you, Hanna. I look forward to our friendship if you so desire, and would love to share art and life in letters and readings and songs and spirit. -Rook Tod P.S. "keep your spirit high!" -my silly bic lighter" I hadn't realized how long winded this journal entry/letter was until I typed it out just now. I am deeply sorry that I never sent you this letter. I deliberated for hours after typing it all out as to whether or not I should send the entirety of the letter and I concluded that it simply be dishonest to omit a single word I had written that day. The sentiment of having "meant to" send it feels all the more prominent upon re-reading those last lines. I suppose much of our lives gets caught up in meant to's and maybe's. I will do my best not to get so stuck in them. At the very least I'll mean to. Thank you for everything, Hanna. The love and life that you have shared has touched so many hearts and will continue to grow and blossom like saplings in the earth. Fare thee well, Hanna. May your journey into the unknown be an adventure worthy of your wonder. -Rook (Note to the wonderful and lovely folks assisting Hanna and tending to these entries: Thank you for everything you've done and all that you do! I do hope this isn't too much but I also very sincerely won't be offended if this entry doesn't get posted at all or is significantly shortened. Grief is strange.)