We met on 4 June 2010 and were instant friends.
He died on 28 October 2021 and everything changed.
Life is both an exterior experience and an interior reality. When Father Dave died, it was as if the interior landscape of my life went from a lovely Van Gogh—say, The Starry Night—to something as shaken and rearranged as Picasso’s Guernica.
Four thousand one hundred and sixty-four days of friendship. Not nearly enough.
Walt Whitman—our guy—wrote, “Some people are so much sunshine to the square inch.” That, he was. He lit up every room. He lit up many lives. His light still shines. In my heart of hearts, I see it, I feel it, I follow it.
No question (he said that all the time): I was blessed to have him as my friend. But what occurs to me today is that even missing him is a blessing. No question: it hurts. And yet, despite the pain, I realize that I am one of the lucky ones who can say that they miss him, because all the days of my life will be warmed and illuminated by the sunny radiance of his indomitable spirit.
Please join me in remembering a man whose life and legacy are too huge for these meager little things we call words.