So it happened that I recently began looking up friendships in more detail to reconnect with long lost comrades—it's been nearly three dozen years since my high school days. While I readily found pages and photos about others, I couldn't come up with much at all about KC. To my sadness, I learned from reading a sibling's obituary that KC had preceded his other family members in death. I was shocked.
After considerable research, I found three links. The first was from FindaGrave. The second was information in FamilySearch. Both provided little detail and mostly dates. Then after considerable research I found an obituary for KC, who actually died 13-years-ago as a relatively young man.
Poetry, short stories, and music? I missed all of that and much more. He could turn anything he touched into a work of art.
And the fact that I don't get to experience and celebrate any of it doesn't seem right.
The obituary was seven lines. That is all I get?
Where are the notes, stanzas, memories, and short stories he has written? The art he created was left to smolder in the pretext of nonrecognition and my inability to enjoy because I could not find it. That for me is the real lament.
I admire and appreciate you KC. You lifted me in a time of need when I sought a friend, and I applaud you for that. KC ol' pal, you recognized and revered me when I needed you, which I am trying to do for you now.
Cheers my friend.