Your death eats at one you loved. Not so much that you died, though that plays a big part, but the details. We talk frequently about your death. I find myself at a loss. No one knows exactly what thoughts were yours those last days. We all think we know. We all know we do not know.
I wish I had the words that would ease your loved one's mind. Time heals, such a cliche, but true. Death won. How it won ultimately does not matter. You left a mystery that likely will not be solved. Your final haha to the world. Good one!
We talked about legacy. I never really considered that. Maybe the urge belongs to men only. I guess in my mind, all of us amount to a tiny grain of sand on the world's largest beach. So, legacy to me means to remain in the minds of my friends after I am gone. For as long as someone I knew lives, I live on, too.
Monuments remain in this world after thousands of years. How many people still are remembered? A handful compared to the number of people who lived. Not many records of Joe Blow Greek and his daily life.
I sent R an email. We shall see.
I miss you, dude. Unraveling the mystery occupies me still. You would get a charge out of that.
Later.
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