I've been a bit lax on the blogging side of things this week, because once again I have been as busy as a one-armed fan dancer. I'm trying to be happy, but it's difficult because I'm grieving the loss of a much-admired person, and no, it's not Peter Mayhew (the freakishly tall man who was Chewbacca in the Star Wars movies), although I DID feel sad when I read the news. That guy had a difficult job to do; bringing to life that imaginary 'walking carpet'. It can't have been much fun in the first cluster of filming, what with wearing a costume comprising stitched up yak hair (which quite likely was still matted with burrs and yak dags). But Mayhew did a great job: who didn't feel the anguish when he gave that gut-wrenching howl as Han Solo was frozen in carbonite to repay those debts to Jabba the Hutt?
No, the admired person whom I lost was a former employer. This guy was a brilliant lawyer, and a really, really nice guy. As I wrote in the online remembrance book, he really was the best boss a person could wish for. I left his employ only because I was relocating. On my final day, he presented me with a beautiful giftpack of Dolce & Gabbana fragrances, together with a heartfelt letter to me. I cried when I read it. We both cried when we hugged before I left the office for the final time on that Friday afternoon.
I cried when I received the telephone call last week. Cancer, fuck off and die in a hole.
Yesterday, another former employee and I travelled to Sydney for the public memorial service. It sounds contrived, cliched, and trite to say this, but it really was a beautiful service. His three children did him more than proud. I didn't cry as much as I thought I would, but I did leak a little around the eyes during the eulogies, which were presented by the children and a barrister friend. After a gorgeous photographic slideshow, the microphone was passed around for memories to be shared, and I shared mine about what a wonderful person I thought he was, and the pride with which I - and other employees - would tell people where we worked.
Really enjoyed catching up with my old friends there, but it's such a bastard of a reason to catch up! I got home exhausted and emotionally drained, and am still having trouble grasping the concept he's gone. I loved you, John; RIP.
I will just have focus on the good things. I have written the blurb for Howling on a Concrete Moon, and seen some suggested cover art, and I'm inclined to think we will run with this cover art. People, get ready to dig deep and buy a book soon! (Well, you won't have to dig THAT deep, I'm sure!)
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