So last week was his birthday and it's been seven months since he's been gone and it seems more impossible to believe than all the months before. He was such a presence, a unique, and a beautiful man. It's hard to believe that such a force is no longer present within our lives. He was a loving, a passionate, a gentle, and a fearless man. We met on the set of the play Zorba and he had a soul, a spirit, that outshone even that namesake...and that's just how I felt when I was angry with him. At first sight you might have thought "what a tiny fellow" but it would have been the last time you thought of him as small. He was one of those little Italian men that could move mountains effortlessly. He was loud when he was happy and louder when he was not. He cried openly, without shame, he fought city hall (and won). He had an encyclopedic knowledge of history, geography, religion, and politics following the threads of current events to their origins in ancient Rome or Athens or the sands of the Holy Land. Where I don't follow any events local, national, or international, he devoured his New York Times, listened to the BBC and NPR. He was an artist and a draftsman. There really wasn't much he couldn't do. He was my courage, my very best friend, and the love of my life.
In bocca al lupo. m & v
No comments:
Post a Comment