Dear Mike,
It
has now been ten hours since you have gone and already I miss you. All of my life you have been there, almost
never more than half an hour away, and now every minute carries you farther and
farther away. I look at my books placed
in your shelves & am reminded of you, I type this letter on your typewriter
and am reminded of you; every now and then something will occupy my attention,
but then I think of you with a start and feel guilty for having forgotten
for a moment.
I
have noticed something strange. Things do not have a past until they are
gone. I mean they have a past, but they are not
in it. It is awful feeling so torn, but
I don't feel any despair. I know from
the past that things I think are gone forever turn up where least
expected. I hope you will turn up soon.
[Found
in his papers ten years and more after his passing.]
No comments:
Post a Comment