On my trip to visit Gregory's family in Battle Creek, Michigan;
I saw Gregory in the ruins of the old McDonalds we used to stop at before reaching the Skyway.
I saw him in the gently loved antiques filling aisle after aisle of the mall in Michigan City, Indiana.
I saw Gregory in the three rusty manufacturing storage towers we called "The 3 Sisters" along '94.
I saw him at "Chocolate Garden" some miles later where you could have a candy tasting for $2.95.
I saw Gregory in the open fields with bits and pieces of mowed corn stalks lying down in the mud.
I heard him on the car's radio as it played Christmas music, non stop since Thanksgiving Day.
I heard Gregory as the wheels of the car bumpily bumped over the uneven highway road.
I heard him in the hum of the heater, warming my arms and legs as the temperature outside dropped.
I heard Gregory in a warning to watch out for that driver ahead who was weaving from lane to lane.
I heard him in my memory as we pointed out this and that along the route we took so often.
I felt Gregory in the arrival as I pulled into the driveway of Mark and Colleen's home in Augusta.
I felt him in the welcoming hug which Colleen so freely gave as she helped with my suitcase.
I felt Gregory is the greeting of the cats, who came out of hiding to check me out, and then hid again.
I felt him on the pillow next to mine on the comfortable bed in the room called "Greg and Michael's."
I felt Gregory in my before sleep read, in my nighttime dreams, on each awakening and trip to pee.
I lived him in his niece Renee and her daughter Lily as they opened their early Christmas Gifts.
I lived Gregory as I helped his infirm brother Mark in from the car and up the stairs, Diane following.
I lived the embrace he and Mark had one last time ago, neither one having, nor needing any language.
I lived Gregory at the table filled the his family and filled with his absence.
I lived him and loved him and missed him and the many times we had made this trip together.