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 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 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 my friend, you recognized and revered me when I needed you, which I am trying to do for you now.
Cheers my friend.