Delftsman

A Life Remembered

It's been enough time to try to begin to process some of the events of the day.

It was an emotional rollercoaster, and I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit that, YES, I did break down at the end of the memorial service, and was blubbering like a little baby, something totally out of character for me.

It was a very moving service, with a touch of religion (which Rob wouldn't have particularly cared for), and testimonials from his friends about past events that had moved them,(which I believe that Rob would have found quite touching).

They had his cremains in a simple wooden box slightly larger than a cigar box, with Rob's name and a guitar burned into the lid. That was what got to me in the end. It was just the right container for him; but to think that it held the mortal remains of a man that so many people had come to come to hold as a friend...the finality of it all just hit me like a ton of cement blocks, and I just totally lost it. I went to the mens room to compose myself and try to prevent furthur embarrassing myself and then I heard Robs voice, as clear as the water in a Florida spring fed pool: "get your shit in one sock". Yeah, I know, I was just imagining it, "it was a stress reaction". But hey, it worked.

But to tell you the truth, I prefer to think of it as proof that Rob was wrong about death when he stated his belief that there was nothing after the final beat of the heart but darkness and oblivian; I look on it as proof that something of us lives on, even if only in the overactive imaginations of those we have left behind.

After the service, everyone proceded to go to Rob's mothers house to have a party to celebrate a life in a manner that befit the man. There was a lot of food, reminiscing, and picking. Oh yes, there was picking. Seven guitars, an electric base guitar, an accordian, and a mandolin, along with some bongo drums on the few of the numbers. And watching Dave play; it was almost as if Rob was there, just having a jam session with with his mates.

There were stories swapped of past antics and interactions with Rob, both RT and in the 'sphere; there were old friends meeting again and new friends meeting for the first time, and most of all, there was the healing balm of laughter. It was a fitting tribute to a man that was as complex as Rob was.

In conclusion all I can say is goodby, until we meet again ya old bastid, ya should be dragged out and shot for leaving us too soon...and I hope you have found the some peace on an eternal beach, drink near to hand, entertaining a bevy of nekkid women around you with the sweet strains of your guitar and voice.

Posted by Delftsman3 at June 30, 2006 02:41 AM | TrackBack