You were not one to mince words.
Your laugh was contagious.
You had the coolest back tattoo ever.
You knew how to give a good, solid hug.
I can still picture you with the mohawk you had fifteen years ago.
I was afraid of you as a kid
– you were all metal studs and teenage rage –
and somehow, you grew up to be
a person of incredible warmth, kindness, and energy.
I loved thinking of you amongst forested mountains and white water –
your natural habitat, to be sure.
I never knew anyone who lived larger than you.
Everything you did was one step from mortal danger,
which was just as you liked it.
You and your dog saved each other more than once,
you taught survival skills to children,
you helped remind people of what matters in life,
but none of these things could keep you with us.
I felt the breath knocked out of my chest
when I read the nonsensical words – that you were gone.
It’s awful that we won’t ever speak again,
that we won’t watch our kids play together.
My heart breaks that your pain was so mighty.
We all miss you.
Can you feel how much love is here for you on Earth?