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"For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted. . ." .
Ecclesiastes 3:1-3
In loving memory of Steve Walton. He was my biggest fan, greatest supporter, and close friend. He believed in me more than I believe in myself and will forever be missed.
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I've lost obscure aunts and uncles before. A close personal loss like my grandmother and now Steve, how does a person get over that? I guess you never really do. You beat yourself up over all the times you could have visited, all the phone calls you could have made, or the missed calls that you didn't return, and the words left unsaid. Then I guess you never really do get over it. How can you? How do you forget? I wish I could. If there was some sort of magic potion or medical procedure I could undergo I would. I'd forget just so I wouldn't have to hurt, to cry. Stve Walton died yesterday morning. All I can think aobut is how I wanted to see him one last time, hear him call me 'eccentric', or listen to one of his crazy ideas for what to paint next or how to make me famous. Then I think about his family, and his daughter Loren. I know she'll miss her dad and perhaps feel a larger void than anyone else. She's not quite old enough to really understand but smart enough to know and to feel that Daddy is gone and not coming back. I hoped that when I woke up this morning I would find that this was all a dream, a really bad dream. It wasn't though. He was my friend, one of my biggest supporters and my biggest fan.
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