Ken Cassidy

This morning a friend of mine passed away. I wasn't prepared for it. I thought I had more time with him, and now he's gone. I was bringing him some music to keep him company, but when I got to the room he wasn't there. Yesterday, he was there, in pain, but still cracking jokes as often as people would allow. Today, he is gone. The nurses say he is in a better place, and I know that's true. But still, I would have liked to have spend more meaningful time with him while I had it. So, a tribute to Ken Cassidy.

I will remember you.
Your black and red 'Canada' jacket and tie, that you donned every day for lunch (well, not the tie, but the jacket)
Your half-smoked cigars that you kept in your pocket
Your take home cups of coffee, milk, juice and cookies balanced carefully on your lap as you waited in the lobby for Maurice to drive you back.
Always cracking jokes, right to the very end.
Your understanding of prophecy, and the kindness in people's souls.
Your big bushy beard that took up half your face.
Your heaps and stacks of 'stuff' that you asked the teens to move.
Your love and respect for Chazz and for me,
The way your eyes lit up when you talked about God and Bo Diddly.
This is how I will remember you.


(I know it's not poetry, but it's not meant to be. I'm not in that much of a mood for being artistic at the moment.)