Good Bye John Gibbons
I've just heard that you passed away from me, from us. Sadly I missed the opportunity to share my new life with you. I never had the chance to be proudly married or share our joy with you. Sadly our last correspondence was about Warren Zevon and the Hindu Love Gods. I never said thank you for the sandwiches, or the coffee, or the time you helped Justin. I remember thanking you for helping with the beer at the ButcherShop. But I wished you would have stayed longer at the shows. I'll miss your support. I'll miss your surly laugh. I'll miss your suddenly surprisingly gone beard. I'll miss the care that you gave to the small things that made you feel happy and safe.
Perhaps later we will catch up on all of little things that make me bitch and made you laugh. I would like that. I would like to talk with you about the things that I write. I want to have you over for a dinner, share a glass of wine, a warm beer, or a bottle of scotch. I would like to hear about the way that CTA does you wrong or about your walk through the neighborhood. But until such time, until the universe tosses us back in the tank again, enjoy your quiet. I'm proud that for a brief time you were like family.