A Few Minutes at the NYC Liam Payne Memorial
Amongst the chess players,NYU students, and street performers, sits an ever growing tribute
I could hear ‘You & I’ playing all the way from the curb cut, breaking through the busy sounds of Washington Square Park, carving out a little piece of the public space just for us. As I approached the iconic arch, I could finally determine what was crowding the right pedestal.
Placed out at the front of the pack was a small black cardboard box of children’s chalk, used to create an entrance to the tribute. Grievers marked up the sidewalks, scrawling messages of gratitude and mourning along the pavement. The red ‘1D’ in a heart was something so familiar, yet so cold.
Past the colorful artwork lay dozens upon dozens of bouquets, some from the local Wegmans, wrapped in plastic, and others homemade, tied with string, and topped off with balloons. A few half-filled tissue boxes and a roll of blue duck tape were scattered along the edges.
Single roses were stuck to posters, piled underneath photographs probably ripped from long-forgotten glossy teen magazines or those old thick programs they used to sell at concerts. Candles were also among the memorial; some were lit, some were bare, and some even spelled out his name.
A few forks and sporks were gently placed near the partially covered white Tuckahoe marble—a joke from what feels like a past life.
The letters, signed with names and tears, were filled with memories and promises.
“You were one of the most important people of my childhood.”
“I can’t wait to tell my children about One Direction.”
“You are with us, always.”
“We will look after Bear.”
“I will never forget you.”
“You changed my life.”
“You changed the world.”
A tall cardboard cutout stood in the middle amongst the array of echos.
All I could think of was that scene in the ‘One Direction: This is Us’ film, where Liam’s mother shared that she had purchased a cardboard cutout of her son to have something to remember him by when he was off touring with the band.
This one wasn’t the same image of him, but I wonder if she still has that cut out.
A few girls were sitting on the floor in front of me, inscribing their messages into a notebook that was being passed around their circle of strangers who had become friends.
One wore a Taylor Swift cardigan; another, a Midnight Memories t-shirt.
Others sat separate from the group, dried tears streaked on their faces, placing framed photos or enveloped letters into the collection.
I only stayed for a few more minutes, but before I turned to leave, I reached down to touch one of the posters leaning up against the arch.
‘If I Could Fly’ played as I said goodbye.
