When I found out this morning, I was numb. I got in the shower and cried. Crying in the shower is probably one of the loneliest things you can do; naked, wet, soapy – nothing but cold, hard surfaces to comfort you.
I don’t want to do anything. I just want to be sad. He was one of the truly good people. I am sad that people I care about die.
I talked to my mom today. She told me about how she burned some sage leaf in memory of Chief Joseph, and how he came to her in a dream that night.
While I readily admit that my mom is freakin’ crazy, I like the idea of doing something in somebody’s honor. I want to drink a cup of coffee for Logan. He couldn’t drink coffee in the last few months of his cancer – I guess caffeine gave him scary visions of monsters. I want to drink coffee, and play the concertina. I was at Lon’s house on Saturday, and his kids busted out all their toy instruments. There was a concertina among the other instruments, and it made me think of Logan. Everything quirky makes me think of Logan.
I am glad I got to see him before he went. I don’t want to remember him having to walk with a cane. I want to remember his dorky smile while playing drums in a band. I want to remember how only Logan can rock a cowbell and a woodblock off his bass drum without seeming lame.