This here is blogged with permission ...... it is so powerful for me to peek into the scenes painted and I want to hold them dear.............
My dear friend Pip
I've been thinking today about the game of baseball - and I've come to the conclusion that I reckon the fast balls that come our way most of us deal with pretty well - they come at you hard and fast - you know what you're getting, but the curve balls...hmm, they're a different proposition all together - in a sense they aren't as predictable. It's funny Pip, Mike the one I want to talk to about all this...I want to tell him how I'm feeling, how I'm once again confused by this painfully beautiful life we live. I want to pick up the phone and hear that gentle but crazy affirming voice...but I can't anymore. None of us can.
I've been reading some of the memories our friends have of a treasured man, and in doing so I am realising just how much I loved him, and I'm wondering, how, in 4 short years a man who I only see a couple of times a year at best has drawn so near. I've lost count of how many cigars we've smoked together. I've lost count of how many bottles of chardonnay we've drunk together...but I haven't lost count of how many times we've cried and laughed together. I haven't lost count of how many times we've vulnerable and transparent together. Maybe that's the mystery...just maybe. I remember when he came to stay with Claire and I in Guernsey. I remember the now legendary 'WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOO' when Claire told him he could smoke his cigars, but only in the kitchen. I remember 8 hours later on returning from work, and walking into that same kitchen not being able to see Yac for the smoke (he got through 7 for the record!). I also remember our church around the meal table. I remember his passion for good food and wine, of his excitement of the banquet to come beyond this world. But I also remember us sharing our inner demons and resident Pharisees - the stuff not normally reserved for supper conversation - but I remember most his own tears as he listened to the stories of the broken people sat around our table. And I remember more tears when he took his own turn in confessing.
I remember the excitement when he saw little Samuel this summer - I remember seeing the child in his eyes as I watched Karla cuddle our little one. i remember lots more but it's too raw to go near at present - but I remember it. This though all seems selfish. When I check myself it's Karla my tears and angst is for. I remember Mike and I having too many cigars and too much to drink at Greenbelt 2001. We had been talking 'deep stuff' and Mike was in tears and had to go to his room to phone Karla. He felt he was in a sacred moment and the one he most wanted to share that moment with was missing. That's why my thoughts turn to Karla - from now on she has to live that everyday.
As Stocki said in similar circumstances 6 years ago when we lost Rich, 'Our hearts are feebly attempting to temper it. We lost so much more than skin and bone...you are the world as I best remember it.'
You too Pip are a great man, and I'm proud to have you as a friend. Let me know about the 23rd - I'll move heaven and earth to get there.
Grace
Paul
