You were a walking oxymoron. It was as if any darkness you carried you released through your art and your morose sense of humor, leaving you light and free. You exuded an honesty that was often mistaken for arrogance, but anyone paying attention could see the difference.
In a world where optimism is valued and encouraged, how do we innocently tout gratitude for the beauty in our lives while knowing that so many are not granted the same fortunes?
When home is one single place for that fundamental time of your life, the physical space becomes so much more than a dwelling. It takes on a life of its own—a permanent fixture that deeply roots itself in your soul, grabbing hold a little bit stronger with each passing day.
One of my deepest sorrows in life is not having gotten to know you longer—to have shared more of my life with you.
