50 and gone
Today I opened up the paper to the obituaries, which is my habit because of my job and I'm morbid that way. The first obituary, dead center of the page, was my first love. He was just 50. I wouldn't have known him in a million years from the photo, not because he looked bad, but just because 30 years later, he looked nothing like what I remember.
From the obituary, I was able to get some information about him, which led me to other info on line. The hypothosis that I had about what became of him were not far from the mark. But he had been clean for the last 8 years I gather. In the end it was cancer that killed him.
He was apparently a frequent caller to a local radio show, and it was very strange to hear his voice after all these years. I wouldn't have recognized that either. I let my friend who also knew him know about his passing.
I dont have any regrets that our relationship didn't pan out. He was a very smart person, but probably too smart for his own good. He didn't feel the way about me that I did about him, I'm sure, but still, he introduced me to Wicca and Hanz Holzer, at a time where it made a good influence on my life and philosophies, and he also introduce me to the music of Mike Oldfield. He was on a collision course with life, but I will always remember him with fondness. And count my blessings that he didn't return the affections.
RIP James. All the questions are answered.