He now the living

Me sad, says he.

Delayed shock, the loss of someone who should still be a friend, the confrontation with mortality. I know how he feels.

All I have is words and the words are not my own.

Write his name on paper. Put it in the ground or a pot. Plant a vegetable or tree. When you see or eat the plant, he will be beside, or inside you.

This I offer. Send and receive. Sealed with a X.

I can see him now, in Eden, with a shovel and an apple tree. Digging a hole. In the rain. Cap on, trousers hanging off the bony hips. Wellies. Puts a smile on my face. And I can't lose that.

A very wise, famous man once wrote to me: I am he and he is she and we are all together. We're all in this together. Long distance be damned.