In some cultures, mourners wear white, like today's sky -- blank and hard to look at, its flat whiteness searing.
Charley wanted to live long enough to escape searing heat and enjoy sitting outside, looking at the sun slide across the ridge above the Frio.
He lived that long.
Charley wanted to make it to fall, the sliding season of dying leaves and flowers, and he did.
He lived that long.
Charley wanted rain, and rain it did, hard, on Saturday night as he began to slip away.
He lived that long.
When his widow spreads his ashes on their beloved Texas hill-country property, and when the wind carries him into water and land, under white or gray or blue sky, I will know that he lives still, in that place and in what lives and grows there.
Charley will live still.
When his widow spreads his ashes on their beloved Texas hill-country property, and when the wind carries him into water and land, under white or gray or blue sky, I will know that he lives still, in that place and in what lives and grows there.
Charley will live still.
4 comments:
What a beautiful tribute to your friend, Robley. He was fortunate to have you.
Robley, we're so sorry for your loss. Call if you wanna hike or get coffee.
No pressure.
Sarah.
Robley, I just now read this post. I am so very sorry for your loss. It sounds like Charley was an amazing, kind, poetic friend. My condolences.
Robley, what a beautiful way to remember your friend. I am sorry for your loss. I know you will miss him.
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