Well it happened again. Woke up at 5 am (4 hours sleep, a record!) and it was alright, just lay around a bit, thinking about events of the upcoming day, ideas for a NEW storyline (sighs) and a bunch of various work need doing, both physical and virtual and as I am thinking of my website and art (and Miss Jinx comes in) I start remembering too much again. See a piece of R's in my head, one of his CGI creations, a golden Buddha...thinks of all that talent, gone. That warped mind, that laughter--my friend--gone.

So yep, that was it. Here comes the flood and it was time to get out of bed before the noise couldn't be held down and wake Emile.

Damn, fed the fur kids, got my tea, started the laptop and it's STILL a freakin' waterworks here. Nose completely stuffed, throat swollen. Makes me feel all the worst of that cold I though I'd kicked yesterday all over again.

Only I keep almost seeing him, feeling him. No, not here with me now, just memories sharp more like than not. (I think.) Only the more memories which arise, the more the last ones come, the anger producing ones...except I don't even give a shit about that now. ALL I want to do is give him a hug.

Yeah, yeah, I know death ain't the end of anything. I got no problem with people dying and death, only this situation is really getting to me. Possibly because it has been such an intense time this year and past; exhaustion, ALL emotional reserved vanished, used up long ago. Hysterics are sort of the norm here, you know, the dumbest little thing having you go off in wild bout of laughter when otherwise you'd barely note it...or crying over things natural, things temporary that really do not mean all that much either.

Only I'm feeling the old Big Guy a lot stronger of later. Illusion brought about by taxed, emotional desperation? Yeah, that's most likely it. Maybe.

R loved music. I love music. We were always sending CDs of mixed stuff to each other. He always sent more than I could. He liked to "speak" to send messages through music.

I have a section amongst my CD collection, gifts from R. I can’t play them, can’t listen to them. Some for well over two years now. At first it was the Hurt...now it is because...well, he’s dead, right? This chapter has ended for this time around. Got my own feet to “stand” on here. No more jokes about being “Tiny Tim” carried around sitting on the big gallout’s shoulder at Sci-fi conventions or anyplace else for that matter. (My little feet kicking.) Ha. Ass.

R, you peckerhead. Not like that would happen anyhows. Nope, he’d be too busy trying to chase after Jerri Ryan (7 of 9 Borg-gal on Voyager). Man, oh man, did R have a thing for her! Re, her boobs. LOL!

Little story about R for you, folks. He was at a sci-fi con and that lady was giving autographs. Everyone else was bringing up still shots and science fiction magazines for her to sign and when his turn in line came up, guess what R had her sign?

The issue of Playboy magazine which she’d posed in. (R’s wife L looking on, shaking her head helplessly. Yep, that was him alright.)

Ryan signed it, too. HA!

Another time he had her sign a tee shirt. No suit for R, nope. He’s buried wearing one of her shirts, has his fav model and a signed T by her with him. Perfect!

Yeah, he was a real character alright. Before we all started hanging out in “real” life, the four of us getting together at various restaurants across a couple of states (Ex-Navy cook, R loved his eatin’!) R found out I had a thing for Reeses peanut butter cups and one day a delivery truck pulls up and there was a full CASE of them for me. Yum! Over time there were more things. Doctor Who figurines (toys) and ones from the Puppet Master movies. Collector cards GALORE and my favorite, which will always be sitting next to my computer, a Gamera toy. You push the turtle flat, pull him back and he zips forwards and rises up “Roar!” Hehe.

Last thing R ever gave me was my cloth poster form a Godzilla movie. Hung it up after he’d died. It’s hanging right next to my painting of Drex, the cover of my first book. Those two will always be hanging side-by-side as well. Always, Big Guy, I promise. I simply can not imagine it being any other way.

Tell you folks, this “just one more hug” notion is bullshit. That’s a freakin’ tease, because it’s a golden carrot that ruins it, spoils the whole concept of sharing a hug.

You hug and that is all there is. Nothing further than that moment, no final, fucking anything.

Okay, Big Guy, you win. Stubborn son of a bitch. I’ll try to listen harder, not hurt and be angry so much. Hard thing for me to do, which you know all too well. Swear to gods, never fought so intensely, so emotionally charged based with anyone else in my life. We were just too much alike in our make-ups. Artists, whimsical, lived so much in the fantasy of the head, preferring it to life’s crap and pain. Connected on the level of the Child and oft acted like it. *Chuckles*

R was a model maker. He carved the originals for a lot of jewelry out there. Pins for the main. A friend of Emile’s and mine is getting himself Handfasted today. (He knew Emile collects Santas, so one year welded a couple lead ones he’d made together into a candle holder. Next time it comes out of its box will be in our new home.) R made me up a piece, a pair of wolves running together. We met in a virtual world called Cybertown, and our 3-d avatars were wolves. We’d (both insomniacs) often run around the place together like that. Anyhows, on the back of that pin he etched both out nicknames. I think I’ll wear it today. Or at least have it on me someplace. It will be good to share a little moment of life with him again.

Okay, I got to get going. Need to do a little work before I get Emile up.

Catch you later,

Melissa

This is a pin my friend R sent me.

Note the etched in "RI" He lived in Rhode Island.

The "CT" I lived in Connecticut.

The "Nepal" The place Emile and I wished to travel to one day.

When I recieved this pin there was a note taped to the outside which read "Open Me!"

When I did, I found this tiny note folded inside:

THAT was my friend R.

(HUGS) Love you forever, Big Guy. Your M.