Sadness and Beauty (For Glen)

Every sadness illuminates the beauty of life.

Glen was beautiful.

In my heart, in my perception, in my memory, he still is. Glen was someone whose influence on my life outstripped his time in my life.

Glen passed away awhile ago. I still know none of the details. My intellect wants to know. My wisdom understands the mechanism is pointless.

Glen was beautiful, and now he is gone.

But, of course, he isn't.

Glen has friends and family and children.

I don't know his children well. I know their mother more. Although Glen and Debbie were parted from each other, they are together in my imagination. They came into my life when I was becoming who I am. In our lives punctuated by rapid change and long equilibriums, this was a period of profound growth.

It was a difficult time for me. 

Transitions are always dangerous.

I was lonely and afraid and acted more confident than I was. Their example of calm and peaceful love I carry still. They were apart when Glen passed, which meant it wasn't always calm and peaceful. But, I know Glen was a wonderful and present father. Their divorce didn't define them. Parenting was more important.

Glen's beauty was defined by his relationships.

I've rarely met anyone so happy and comfortable being a Dad. I know few men who are as comfortable in themselves, without resorting to masculine stereotypes and clichés.

Maybe this was all a lie. Glen clearly had secrets. In the end his secrets were more like demons than the relatively benign monsters we all make friends with.

But, to me, this was a truth. Glen's loving countenance is always how I remember him. I remember Debbie and Glen as the adults in our group. He was quiet and solid and there to help you move, as a man should be. She was sweet and caustically funny and there to help you in every other way she could. She also reminded us that people had real responsibilities - children - when we fought over which pub to go to on a Tuesday night, as we pushed our adolescent years into the third decade of life.

Together they formed a stepping stone in my journey. Without them, I am not sure who I (and we) are today. In a twist of fate I am well used to, neither are part of my life today.

Except, both are with me still.

Thank you, and I'm sorry.