Homage to my friend Richard Sellers

When I first told you I walked on canes, I didn't think beyond it, other than that I'd imparted a piece of information, which may or may not be relevant in terms of who/what we are to each other.

Time has passed. The first anniversary of our meeting has passed, and many days have been spilled over the silent floor of my deep sometimes-suicidal depressions. You stayed. You were quiet, and my guilt built itself like a bridge that ends midway, spilling the wanderer into ice cold seawater. But even with all my non-words, my non-explanations, you stayed. And when I put my first labored comment on the virtual paper of our connection, it was the hardest thing I'd done in months. Harder than staying alive, harder than staying sane.

You came back right away, and made it easy, but I sensed a distance, and now I wonder if I hurt you? Did I abandon you? I think I did, but you're too cautious, and too polite to accuse me of doing something so wrong. It was.

But you see, I never dream that you need me. I imagine you on your own island, ever resourceful, and that does you an injustice. It lessens your humanity.

We are back again, full of words and thoughts shared, full of anger, and full of gas. I have laid myself bare before you in confessing my fears regarding our thing, our word bridge that carries me safely all the way across. I've touched on personal issues in your life that are none of my affair, and you are so courteous, you allow me the immense latitude to express it all.

Always, the intellectual hook sunk so deep in both our hides has kept us on a certain track. We sign our letters with affection, and it is so. But never before had I imagined just how deep the heart of you is for me, and how potentially painful it might get for you, when I fall through the hole in my mind. Though I know you are a sensitive individual, and can easily weep for the world, my own battered ego disallowed the possibility that you'd spend much time on thinking of how it goes here. Then recently, you said these words: "When you mentioned that you had to rely on canes to get around I spent the whole day trying to feel that reality and what a royal pain in the ass it must be."

Not one single friend of mine has ever taken the time, or made the effort to walk in my shoes. People that have known me for more than a quarter century, who knew me before, and watched me plow through my life like a dog chasing rabbits across a field, having an abundance of energy, and high spirits, never gave a thought to what it was like to fall from such heady heights. You did.

I will cherish that forever. I must say this to you: The empathy you have is the crown on your head, and the terrible spear that impales you. I want you to know through this public acknowledgement, just how much I love you, and how much I need your fine friendship in my life. I want to say, that you give me more in twenty words, when I am down and floundering, than any other human being I have ever known, with the exception of my mother.

I have called you "my light", and that you are.

A. Murray June 23, 2004