I can't stop crying. I got to know you, fall in love with you, and then found out that you died, all in one painful sitting. I'm so broken hearted. What a beautiful, lovely, powerful, gentle man you are.
I went to a funeral once, where the priest said that there is something to a good death, that dying is an important sacrament, as important as baptism or marriage, because it teaches the people we leave behind so very much. Thank you for teaching me about your ability to love and change.
Thank you for teaching me about taking stock of a life before death, and making amends. Thank you for your beautiful voice and the poetry of your words. Thank you for being a beautiful example of survival, despite horrible senseless pain. Thank you for bringing me England in the rain, and bumblebees in jars. Thank you for reminding me that I should take the holes in my stomach more seriously, if only for my little boy's sake, and do something about them. Thank you for sharing your life and your joy and your grief.
In reading your journal I can't help but be struck by the depth and quality of your writing and a sort of prescient quality that moved you to write this to your friends;
"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same."
Thank you for reminding me that it's life that matters, my beloved son, my mate, my friends, my family, my animal companions, the clouds, the grass, the rain, not the crap that you accumulate, not business or computers, animals and children and I have so many and am so lucky. Thank you.
"If you would remember me, and there is no reason anyone should, do it like this: Be nicer to each other. Always listen. Do it calmly. Know that every jerk you face has had it just as hard as you. Be kind to them. And never hurt a child. Never hurt an animal. Never hurt a woman. Don't hurt each other."
I Love you.
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