This morning I was indulging in that oh so Canadian pursuit, I was frying bacon. An art which requires vigilance, but is also an ideal time for reflection. As is always the way when grieving, thoughts constantly return to the missing loved one. I was asking myself what I wanted to say, and why I wanted to say it, should I post. Although my feelings for Russell were very private, and very tender, I must post because I owe it to him, and to his memory. I owe it to his parents and family and his friends, in the hopes they may read it and know how those who were fortunate enough to spend time with him felt, and that we share their loss. I hope they take some comfort in what I, and others, write. I owe it to myself, for the chance to express this loss I feel, and to allow myself to go through the horrible human process of grief.
For those of you who frequent Lobby One in Yahoo, you’d know me as Savoy Truffle. I’m not always there, but have been occasionally for many years. “Elmo” was one of those names that had always been there, a fixture. I wasn’t such a reg, so to me he wasn’t a child that I watched grow into a young man. I’m not sure when I first sent him a private message, it might have been to congratulate him on earning his licence. I had promised him a kiss when he accomplished that, and I had no doubt that he would. At the time the room was busy, as it usually is, so I sent that congratulatory kiss to him via pm. And a very unexpected thing happened.
There are such times when two spirits seem to meet and touch, despite the medium or the distance or the disparity in circumstance. This man-child, without fanfare or even eloquence, held me in his virtual arms and that simple kiss reached us both on a level too seldom felt in our daily lives. It surprised him too. Naturally, we would talk whenever the opportunity arose. As a woman over twice his age, I was determined to remain somewhat aloof. I knew his value. One day I knew he would fall in love and marry and he would raise a family, as he wished to do. Obviously I’m ill equipped to predict destiny, as now that can never be. That loss alone is beyond words to me.
We talked about all sorts of things, about family and friends, about fears and aspirations, even about death and life after death. He displayed a quiet wisdom and maturity in so many things, beyond his years. I knew he would make a fine husband some day, because he possessed those rare qualities women look for in a mate. He was always infinitely patient with me, though I knew he had a temper, we talked about that too. I felt safe. I felt loved. Of course I loved him too, that surprised him as well. Few people possess that sort of humility. I know he felt he wouldn’t be missed much if he were to leave us, no matter what I said to the contrary.
He had talents, perhaps more than he ever realized. He was as true a friend as anyone could ever ask for. Despite his stature, he was one of the most gentle people I’ve ever known. He was among the most tolerant, giving and loveable of souls to grace this Earth. As a parent, I cannot begin to imagine the unspeakable loss his parents must feel. For Russell, the purpose he had among us has been fulfilled and he has moved on. To each of those who knew him, he will be remembered, and few would not treasure that memory.
Yes, sweet Russell, I did love you dearly, and will always. When you left, you did it quickly, doing what you loved best to do, for that I am thankful. I know where you are now, as you were light, so you return to become light. I will see you again.
