Yesterday I told you to do something nice and I would tell you why later. It’s later.
I miss my friend. You would have liked him. He believed in things like dreams and faerytales and love and pirates. He gave of himself unconditionally and relentlessly. He rallied people around him to make this world better. He shouted down the ugliness of this world with loud, audacious happiness. He said, here is a thing tell me what you think of it and why you think it and he really wanted to know. We became friends because he decided we are going to be friends. Somewhere along the way I fell in love with the soul of the man.
| WE are the music-makers, | |
| And we are the dreamers of dreams, | |
| Wandering by lone sea-breakers, | |
| And sitting by desolate streams; | |
| World-losers and world-forsakers, | 5 |
| On whom the pale moon gleams: | |
| Yet we are the movers and shakers | |
| Of the world for ever, it seems. -Ode, Arthur Shaunnesy |
I don’t know if heaven exists. I do know that energy never dies. I know that my friend was a huge bundle of seemingly ceaseless energy. Whither that energy goes when the body fails us I know not. But I choose to believe it returns to some part of this Universe that we all share and if I look up and pay close attention I just might catch a glimpse of it.
I didn’t expect to miss you so much, Terry. I only wish I had told you how much you inspire me. Not just to follow my own passion, but to try and make this world better as I go. You infected me with your disease of happiness and wanting to make this world better. Thank you for loving me just as I am. That was your greatest gift to me.
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| Just in case Terry’s reading this from wherever he is. You’re welcome, Terry. |
