The truly ironic thing is that, like the dryad in the picture, I could never reach Chris, even though I reached out to him so many times. We were together for three years, and I loved him more than life during the time we were together.

It always hurts when someone you love passes on, but I think it's even more painful when you know that if luck had been on your side, maybe you would have chosen that day to call, that day to visit, that day to ask forgiveness.

I think that in time, I will not picture him as he was at the funeral, and maybe (if I'm so very lucky) in even more time I will not picture him swinging from a rafter from rope or a belt or whatever my imagination puts into the picture.

His family never told me any details of his death. I found out at the funeral. His mother wanted to let me think that he hadn't killed himself, that he might have died from natural causes. I guess she was trying to spare me, but I found out anyway and it just hurt all the more for it.

Even though he was 28, he always seemed like a happy go lucky 10 year old boy, with all the enthusiasm for simple things like trees and parks. He liked to write poetry, sing, play drums, and smile. He really loved to smile. He didn't do it very often.

I will put more information down later, and will put in a real picture of him when I get it scanned.

"Our friend died on his own battlefield.
He was killed in action
fighting a civil war.
He fought against adversaries
that were as real to him
as his casket is real to us.
They were powerful adversaries.
They took toll on his energies
and endurance.
They exhausted the last vestiges
of his courage,
and only God knows
how this child of his
suffered in the silent skirmishes
that took place in his soul".


-- author unknown

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