When Travis died, I knew I wanted to print something for him, something to share with friends at the memorial I would be attending in New York. I sifted through letters and zines and finally came upon this wish for our younger selves:

May we all stay in touch and lead many lives.

A wish for a connected future.

We were penpals for fifteen years, met up in different cities, shared books, talked about relationships and writing and plans.

Only in his last weeks did he share his struggles with alcoholism directly.

After he died, reading through the old texts, I found numerous references to drinking, wine bottles, and a new start. I felt foolish and stupid and wondered what had I missed or misunderstood in our friendship. It was crushing to lose him, to learn what he might have been like in his last year, how little I knew.

I printed this card and shared with friends and mourners at his memorial. I mailed it to anyone who asked. I keep it on a shelf still, nine years later.

Though there was also no card for response, I promoted recipients to write to an old friend and ask: how are you? Really?

I’ve been thinking lately about how you don’t always know whose lives you touch, and I continue to meet and connect to people who knew him. I am inspired to be as honest as I can manage with friends, to be open, to continue to grow.

Letterpress printed with polymer plates, using words in Travis’ handwriting, on cranes letters on a borrowed Heidelberg Windmill Letterpress.

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