Between one thing and another, I didn't get around to reading most of my friendslist yesterday. I finally got to it this morning, expecting yesterday to have been a light day, as Sundays often are here.
Instead, I got quite a jolt. The shocking news, repeated by several
friends, that
filkergem
has died. Suddenly, out of the blue. In a house fire.
As at least one other person observed, it doesn't seem real --
I'm still processing this news, still adjusting my mental map of the
world to fit this fact. At the same time, it seems all too horribly
real. All the more so as I try -- and recoil and fail -- to imagine
what this is like for
kyttn
and
lovensong87.
I haven't the words.
And then I went to check whether my quote of the day had posted
correctly, and remembered what I'd queued up for today in memory of
the Challenger disaster, and suddenly I don't know whether
that quote is tackily jarring for everyone else who knew
filkergem,
because it mentions death by fire, or a fitting (if accidental)
honour because it's a song about defiance in the face of acknowledgement
of death -- a call to carry bravely on -- and a filk song, on a day
we mourn a member of the filk community. I really don't know which
way to call it. I'm still trying to accept that this has happened,
and that I'm really awake.
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And trust me, you're awake. True reality is the one that hurts.
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I don't even know her, and yet my heart has been aching for her since I got the news.
I just found the keys to our safe, where Jack stored his really valuable rare books. I'll probably pull something from that group to donate to whatever fannish auction is being planned to help the family out.
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I wasn't as close to Greg as some of my friends were, but enough so to, like you, keep thinking how sad and how odd it is that old conversations will never be resumed, that we won't see him at the next convention, that his voice has been stilled.
Even though I know rationally that we are all mortal, and that tragedy can take us before our times, on an emotional level it just seems to Not Make Sense (that seems to need exclamation points) that he could be there one day and gone forever the next. It's a shock.
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You need me, I's here. Call, write, whatever ya need, hon.
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Unintentional and yet exactly the right thing,
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