I have been looking at some of Jake’s journals from the past couple of years. In each one, the first 5, 10, 15 pages are filled with the most diverse writings. Philosophy, ramblings, shopping lists, recipes, lists of people’s phone numbers, to-do lists, goals, dreams, plans, a sketch or two, followed by a book full of empty pages. These books are sadly symbolic of his life. At first so busy, so much to do, so many people to call, so much to be, and then … nothing. Just a blank slate that will never be written on. All the people never phoned, the groceries never bought, the wonderful meals never cooked. All the dreams that won’t come true, the ideas that won’t come to fruition, the photographs never taken, the people who will never be touched by his special gifts. Our loss is the world’s loss. Yes, I should be grateful for what I have, what he did, what he left us, what we may do in his name, but my heart aches for what could have, should have been. Nothing to do for it now, I’ll just have to learn to live with that ache. I’ll never get used to it, but what other choice do I have?
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