One More Gone
Yeah, I know I'm at that age.
Standing slightly tilted and looking behind myself. Not too much. Not too often. Not staring or anything. But with tears.
For he is gone.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
And his dust was particularly rich.
He was incredibly kind to me.
And gifted. Gifted in humanity and compassion.
He championed me and mine. He stood up and his voice was heard when my voice wasn't.
And I, for one, am a better person because of him.
I wrote about him here. My story disguised him well. But his essence is there, his thirst for knowledge and incredibly long, involved conversations.
And yes, I loved him. Passionately.
And our time was lovely and memorable.
And far too brief because of my alcoholism which was in full throttle then.
I will never forget him.