Gerry died yesterday.

I never mentioned Gerry because there was no need to.

He never excited strong emotions.

But I respected him, and I liked him, and I thought he'd always be there, except when he finally retired to the tropical island with his wife, like he always planned.

And he always planned.

He visited the island a number of times.

He bought them a boat, so the people in the village could fish and get around.

He bought the island a bus so the poor could get around.

He always laughed at me when I stressed out, and told me it was 'just a job'.

When I came back for my contract the first time, he asked me how I was and I started crying because I was so depressed.

He just laughed and hugged me and told me it was 'just a job' and 'you aren't quitting the arts, you're just taking a break, don't worry about it'.

The second time I went back he asked me if I was moving back, and I said no.

"I'm too stubborn and stupid to move back," I told him with a laugh.

"Thatta girl," he said, also laughing, and hugged me, even though I'm not a hugger. He was thinner then, and tanned, but I thought it was just vacation.

I didn't know it was cancer.

I miss Gerry.

I always missed Gerry, even when he was alive, but I wasn't around him.

His head was screwed on straight, which is more than you can say about most people in this insane and mixed up world.

Apparently it took him a long time to get like that, but he was.

I miss Gerry.

I miss you, man. You were a good dude. For your sake, I hope there is something after this that we call life.

I hope it involves your wife and her family and a tropical island, just like you always talked about.

Gerry, Gerry.

.

Rosie.

Before&After