Poem for Dov Benjamin Wisnia by Ross Smirnoff

It has been almost a year since the passing of Dov Benjamin Wisnia and I think about him often.  Sometimes I think I see him walking down the street.  Sometimes at a bar or a restaurant.  Sometimes in a dream.  Where does one go when they die?  Heaven? Hell? Fabricated human imaginings.  No.  They submerge, effuse, envelop the living.  They pervade our thoughts with memories of their presence. We remember their smiles, their funny way of walking, their hopes and dreams. They become part of hopes and dream for ourselves. We carry them with us like a badge of honor. We forget their insecurities and fears and are lifted up by their humanity, spirit, and ethos. So is death really a death, that being a vanishing? No! It's an awakening of the soul to remember, that although we loose the ability to visit or phone or council or cry or love a friend, we never forget them, nor their impact on our lives. They go on living within the living and the great ones continue to inspire well beyond their mortality.  As I sit on a New York subway writing this memoir, I am reminded of all those moments that Dov and I spent together, just the two of us. That was life and not a moment was wasted.  Dov always made me feel special and unique. I honor him in my thoughts, memories, and my life.