Stu on his way home...
It has been 100 days plus 1 since we had the funeral for our dear friend Stu. His death came as a shock to us all, and frankly, put many of us into a tailspin for a few days, weeks, or months, depending upon the person and situation. His death plus a variety of other long buried issues started erupting from the earth all around me, like some sort of hell spawn intent at pulling me under to my own grave. I started taking stupid risks, drinking too much, finding myself in that dark hole and unable to find the light. I wasn't being pulled under at all, I was hiding in a pit I dug for myself. I wanted to bury my feelings under the dirt of vice and self indulgence. I was hiding from my life and his death by anesthetizing myself. I suppose many of us considered him the most upbeat guy we knew, with nary a bad thing to say about anyone. His death crushed me more than I knew, and was the last straw for me for a while. I think a lot of us considered him the best among us.
Then suddenly one morning I just woke up, my mind screaming ENOUGH!!!! at me like a warning klaxon of some craft about to crash land on the bleak landscape of the place I banished my soul to. It was almost as if I heard his voice, in that great Kiwi accent of his, saying to me, "Aw, come on, it can't really be all THAT bad, can it?" I had a good laugh until it turned into a good cry, and I felt whole again.
I don't know what all these means now, as I move forward, other than I miss my friend and plan on honoring his life with a long one of my own. It does not mean I am going to become some sort of Trappist monk! Feh, what would the world be without a Felgerkarb on the prowl? But it does mean that when I do "go arrrround", as we Publicans like to say, it will be with a wary eye cast back toward that pit I left behind me.
We miss you Stu, be it 100 days plus one or thereafter unto infinity. You are our friend, and we love you...Thank you for everything.