Lauren DePino

When I first met Alan in Philadelphia nine years ago, I was both intrigued and aghast to learn about his fascination with letting go. He makes movies because they fade out. He jots short poems on poster board and posts them throughout cities with flimsy Scotch tape. If he later sees one strewn on the dirty sidewalk covered in footprints, this man who cleans the bathroom naked is elated. He takes photos of billboards with images in mid-decay, spellbound by their exquisitely disintegrating letters.

He embraces what I hate — the fleetingness of our dreams and achievements, of endeavors that take lifetimes to build, just to crumble to nothing.

When death came up in conversation one day, Alan said, “I’m excited for it. When it happens, I plan to be 100 percent present as I go.”

When I ask him how he can love the fact that our art, and the people who create it, will eventually be gone, he answers matter-of-factly, “I love the universe the way it is.”

 Lauren DePino,  When the Truth, and My Groom-to-Be, Stood Naked Before Me

Lauren DePino is a freelance writer and essay-writing coach at work on a memoir. She’s on Twitter @YourItalianHope, Facebook and Instagram.