Happy Birthday, Scott

I think he would have appreciated this.
I don’t have any way at the moment to exploit his death for sex,
but he has my promise I’ll do so at the first available opportunity.

Today would have been the birthday of a dear friend of mine who died this past February.  Sudden heart attack.

While I know my heavy heart in no way compares to that of his wife, children and other family and closer friends, I am nevertheless feeling his absence.  A bittersweet day, filled with loss, but also with many wonderful memories.

Scott was one of the smartest, funniest and intuitive men I have ever known.  I’d always pushed him to become a writer (he was in construction), but he always insisted he felt more accomplished acting the part of a redneck interloper.

Wanted to post something for him today, and did a Interwebs search on poems about dead friends (what a morbid thing to do, but there it is).  Lots of soppy crap out there.   Happily, found this one by RLS, which proved not only brilliant, but turned my heavy heart toward the thought of Scott up there ahead, leaning on a stile, waiting.

Consolation
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Though he, that ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you,
Your whole long, gusty lifetime through,
Be gone a while before,
Be now a moment gone before,
Yet, doubt not, soon the seasons shall restore
Your friend to you.

He has but turned the corner — still
He pushes on with right good will,
Through mire and marsh, by heugh and hill,
That self-same arduous way —
That self-same upland, hopeful way,
That you and he through many a doubtful day
Attempted still.

He is not dead, this friend — not dead,
But in the path we mortals tread
Got some few, trifling steps ahead
And nearer to the end;
So that you too, once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend
You fancy dead.

Push gaily on, strong heart! The while
You travel forward mile by mile,
He loiters with a backward smile
Till you can overtake,
And strains his eyes to search his wake,
Or whistling, as he sees you through the brake,
Waits on a stile.

He was also a TOTAL Beatles freak.  This one’s for you, buddy.