You know, I just logged onto this site this morning because Bill played Jeff Buckley's rendition of Halleluiah, and I mentioned that it was hearing that song here that made me want to keep listening and to get to know this community. But, sweet Bug, you and I know that was only the very beginning.
Bug, the day you left me is still the worst, most painful day of my life. Always will be.
But it's also the day I learned what compassion and fellowship truly mean. It's funny; you and that great big heart you housed in your joyful little body knew all about compassion and fellowship. You reached out with it every day, in ways that are still showing me how to live. But when you died, I got to see it in lots of other places, too.
There are a lot of smart, opinionated people in this place. Sometimes, we get pretty caught up in our smarts and our opinions around here. But sometimes, we come together as a true community, forget any differences of opinion, and remember that we are all humans trying to thrive and grow in a world that sometimes is working against that sort of thing.
Bug, you gave us a reason to pause and reach out across thousands of miles, to each other and to your daddy and me and Heather, and to hold each others' hands and hearts for a bit. To reflect on our commonalities and our bonds. To be our best selves. To remember to hug those we love...and even those we don't love all that much...a little tighter. I will forever be grateful for the compassion and strength this community gave me at that darkest hour and for the little touch of magic you worked in their hearts to help them help me.
Baby, I poured the absolute very best of who I was into you, and you gave me all that back 10-fold. But you also taught me to look for that kind of honest, beautiful lovingkindness in unexpected places. And you taught me the value in trying to emulate your ability to share that kind of love freely with others. I don't always succeed, but I've learned that it's worth the effort. Both to give and to receive. And it's made my life immeasurably richer.
You know, I just logged onto this site this morning because Bill played Jeff Buckley's rendition of Halleluiah, and I mentioned that it was hearing that song here that made me want to keep listening and to get to know this community. But, sweet Bug, you and I know that was only the very beginning.
Bug, the day you left me is still the worst, most painful day of my life. Always will be.
But it's also the day I learned what compassion and fellowship truly mean. It's funny; you and that great big heart you housed in your joyful little body knew all about compassion and fellowship. You reached out with it every day, in ways that are still showing me how to live. But when you died, I got to see it in lots of other places, too.
There are a lot of smart, opinionated people in this place. Sometimes, we get pretty caught up in our smarts and our opinions around here. But sometimes, we come together as a true community, forget any differences of opinion, and remember that we are all humans trying to thrive and grow in a world that sometimes is working against that sort of thing.
Bug, you gave us a reason to pause and reach out across thousands of miles, to each other and to your daddy and me and Heather, and to hold each others' hands and hearts for a bit. To reflect on our commonalities and our bonds. To be our best selves. To remember to hug those we love...and even those we don't love all that much...a little tighter. I will forever be grateful for the compassion and strength this community gave me at that darkest hour and for the little touch of magic you worked in their hearts to help them help me.
Baby, I poured the absolute very best of who I was into you, and you gave me all that back 10-fold. But you also taught me to look for that kind of honest, beautiful lovingkindness in unexpected places. And you taught me the value in trying to emulate your ability to share that kind of love freely with others. I don't always succeed, but I've learned that it's worth the effort. Both to give and to receive. And it's made my life immeasurably richer.
So today and every day, Thank you, Bug.
I never really know what to say at times like this. But I'm amazed at your strength, and happy to see you pop in now and then.
You know, I just logged onto this site this morning because Bill played Jeff Buckley's rendition of Halleluiah, and I mentioned that it was hearing that song here that made me want to keep listening and to get to know this community. But, sweet Bug, you and I know that was only the very beginning.
Bug, the day you left me is still the worst, most painful day of my life. Always will be.
But it's also the day I learned what compassion and fellowship truly mean. It's funny; you and that great big heart you housed in your joyful little body knew all about compassion and fellowship. You reached out with it every day, in ways that are still showing me how to live. But when you died, I got to see it in lots of other places, too.
There are a lot of smart, opinionated people in this place. Sometimes, we get pretty caught up in our smarts and our opinions around here. But sometimes, we come together as a true community, forget any differences of opinion, and remember that we are all humans trying to thrive and grow in a world that sometimes is working against that sort of thing.
Bug, you gave us a reason to pause and reach out across thousands of miles, to each other and to your daddy and me and Heather, and to hold each others' hands and hearts for a bit. To reflect on our commonalities and our bonds. To be our best selves. To remember to hug those we love...and even those we don't love all that much...a little tighter. I will forever be grateful for the compassion and strength this community gave me at that darkest hour and for the little touch of magic you worked in their hearts to help them help me.
Baby, I poured the absolute very best of who I was into you, and you gave me all that back 10-fold. But you also taught me to look for that kind of honest, beautiful lovingkindness in unexpected places. And you taught me the value in trying to emulate your ability to share that kind of love freely with others. I don't always succeed, but I've learned that it's worth the effort. Both to give and to receive. And it's made my life immeasurably richer.
You know, I just logged onto this site this morning because Bill played Jeff Buckley's rendition of Halleluiah, and I mentioned that it was hearing that song here that made me want to keep listening and to get to know this community. But, sweet Bug, you and I know that was only the very beginning.
Bug, the day you left me is still the worst, most painful day of my life. Always will be.
But it's also the day I learned what compassion and fellowship truly mean. It's funny; you and that great big heart you housed in your joyful little body knew all about compassion and fellowship. You reached out with it every day, in ways that are still showing me how to live. But when you died, I got to see it in lots of other places, too.
There are a lot of smart, opinionated people in this place. Sometimes, we get pretty caught up in our smarts and our opinions around here. But sometimes, we come together as a true community, forget any differences of opinion, and remember that we are all humans trying to thrive and grow in a world that sometimes is working against that sort of thing.
Bug, you gave us a reason to pause and reach out across thousands of miles, to each other and to your daddy and me and Heather, and to hold each others' hands and hearts for a bit. To reflect on our commonalities and our bonds. To be our best selves. To remember to hug those we love...and even those we don't love all that much...a little tighter. I will forever be grateful for the compassion and strength this community gave me at that darkest hour and for the little touch of magic you worked in their hearts to help them help me.
Baby, I poured the absolute very best of who I was into you, and you gave me all that back 10-fold. But you also taught me to look for that kind of honest, beautiful lovingkindness in unexpected places. And you taught me the value in trying to emulate your ability to share that kind of love freely with others. I don't always succeed, but I've learned that it's worth the effort. Both to give and to receive. And it's made my life immeasurably richer.
