A new friend recently reminded me that I am a writer. She read the G & M article I published so very long ago, and asked if I was still writing. No, I told her, I'm painting now. Which is true. I am painting now, but I also realized that if I can walk and chew bubble gum at the same time, I can probably write and paint. The idea of getting back into my writing also seems like a good idea considering the constant state of flux in my life, vast changes over the last two years, so I'm going to chronicle those changes. I want to give continuity to what otherwise might be a life of episodes, defined by one relationship after another, each one disappearing into obscurity (and that part of my life with it) unless I give it form and substance, and count each relationship as part of my life story. An important life story, and one that continues on, with or without those seminal relationships in my current life. I guess the kicker is that I don't want to go through the rest of my life with these gaping holes, empty places where there was once a life-partner. Do we just put these relationships behind us, as though they never happened, and loose the continuity of a rich and intimate past? I don't want to do that. I want to preserve the events and people that formed such a core part of my life experience. It is part of respecting the decisions I have made in the past, and giving my past value.
So I'm going to begin with the end. The end of my relationship with Alan in Revelstoke. The end of our Spring Moon adventures together, and the end of my life with Alan and Chester.
This is Alan on our return trip to Vancouver, and our last voyage together. This is what I loved about Alan. His quirky, beautiful, eccentric, sensible, unpredictable self.
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