Dear Dwain,
I didn't know you very well. Not the you that could sit at an opposite chair at the dinner table eating something I prepared. Not the you I could call up and chat with about various rainclouds and sound waves. Not the you that would ask me to help you replace the engine in your car or build a new mast for your boat. Not that you.
I know the you that seeped into a man I love - Michael T. Hensley. I know you through him. And through him I witness lush gardens, brimming with food that we eat and eat and eat all year round. I continue to learn about salt vs. vinegar pickles, the potent smell the salty kind make when festering in the kitchen, and the sound of their crunch when being chewed on by a toddler. I ogle painting after painting with pieces of you tucked inside them. A bottle. A sad face. A house. A happy face. Dates. Times. All of these images and words are there in part because of you. Because of your influence and determination and encouragement. The kind Howdy Michael voices to every neighbor and stranger he encounters. That is you too. His tenderness for cats and birds. You.
So thank you Dwain. Thank you for raising a brilliant human. A curious adventurer, sparkly visionary, trusty daddio, husband, amigo and a truly gentle being.
We are going to miss you.
Love,
FF
