To my shame. After his passing I was so distraught and angry; about how his last few years were lived, and his death itself. When cleaning out his apartment, much of his own things had been sold or discarded and when I came along to clean up after him I followed suit, and did the same thing. Yet, weeks/months later I became eaten up with the regret that I had discarded what precious little I did come across: ancient poems from his college years, portions of his role playing story notes, and beginning chapters of a fantasy novel about Casmar and Duke. My only redeeming quality in this matter is that I have come across Chapter One of his story. My raw thinking at the time was that I could not allow myself to “waste” my time finishing his life when my own life, and novel need completion. Now, how much of my own life will be discarded upon my passing? I am all the more pressured to publish my first novel. Though there is a small homage to him I can never undo with did; I’m sorry Michael.
