A dear friend of mine passed away yesterday. I can't seem to put into words what this man meant to me or what his wife continues to mean to me. The words of Lord Byron have been echoing in my head since I learned of this man's passing yesterday afternoon:
For the sword outwears its sheath,
and the soul wears out the breast.
And the heart must pause to breathe,
and love itself have rest.
(from "So, We'll Go No More A-Roving")
Earlier this month another man I deeply admired passed away as well. He somewhat famous, famous in his shyness as a New England poet. However, he too, like my dear friend Gary, deserves his own post--shrine if you will--for being a remarkable influence in my life.
Farewell my friend.