He just keeps rollin' along.

I can't find Crazy Horse, can't find Hoffa, and Amelia's missing somewhere out at sea. I hope they're happy, having a party; Elvis is serving them up green apple martinis. I can't find my watch, can't find my wallet, so how in the hell am I supposed to find the one that I love...

Somehow, even knowing that it was coming doesn't make it easier. Knowing that he needed it didn't stop the pain. I'm not sad that he's better now. I don't regret all those years with him. I wish I could have been there, though. I'm scared that somehow he knew what was going on and knew that I wasn't there.

Is it bad that I thought of him like a father? Or an uncle, I guess. Or a brother. I remember when our cats died it was sad, but this feels different. Harder.

Good-bye, Boy-O. Miss you already.

As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

...

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.

-- John Donne

<3 spadeALLcross