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Letter Returned: Destination Unreachable

January 22, 2013

My dear friend,

Another pair of eyes lost their light today. It’s the same as saying that they lost their life, but that’s why we know the phrase, isn’t it? It’s one phrase, among a numberless fellowship, that is nothing more than a deferment, and a cover between ourselves and the hard truth of our inevitable demise.

Another pair of eyes lost their light today, and dozens (if not hundreds, or thousands!) of eyes will be weeping in sorrow; Weeping for today, for tomorrow, and (for many) honestly just too long to tell how long. Each someone who weeps has lost their own sweet friend. 

You know well how that loss will echo across time, my friend. Its shape is fluid, and so easily it becomes a painful embrace, a little memory or a large one. Most of all, though, it will live on in an endless flow of regret; for the words unspoken, the thoughts unexpressed, the gestures unshown, the love that was lost long ago.

Each and every death leaves all of mankind infinitely poorer than you, or I, or the meanest beggar has ever been, dear friend. The smallest day-to-day in the life of one spawns an ever-expanding ripple into eternity for all. With each death, a person disappears from existence, never again to make ripples in the small blue pond that we call home.

Loss is the unwanted visitor, always overstaying a welcome that neither you nor I extended, beloved friend. How I wish I could send him away! “Out!”, I would command, and as the phantasm would fade to nothing, we would rejoice. The specter gone, our spirits would be free. It is not in my power, I am afraid.

Trying to capture such a person with words, when the living representation was the only way to do so, is a silly and fruitless endeavor. I will not do justice to you, my lost friend, and so I will not shame you by fumbling through a strained, second-rate eulogy. All I have, then, is what I feel.

I feel that to say “You will be missed.” misconstrues me. I miss you already.

I feel that my heart has been mangled and left to its devices, losing a vital piece of the whole.

I feel ungrateful, never having taught so much as I have learned.

I feel that I was not good enough, that I could not have been good enough.

I feel that I will look for you, here and now, and in what there may be after.

With all my love– past, present, and future.
Your friend,

Miles Grimes

Dedicated in loving memory to Amanda McCoy, 1/22/2013

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