This is the thing I read at Walter Cessna's memorial last Monday. I miss him a lot.
What to wear to Walter’s funeral. What song to sing. How to look. What to serve. How to say to those gathered what I know you all know. How to remind. How to pay tribute. How to remember. How to keep in our hearts. How to bring him with us from now on. How to say goodbye. How to be correct in the future, without him.

How to find him. Where to search for him. If I encounter him again, will I recognize him?

How to stay fukt and fix it. What to capture, describe, photograph, dress up, remember, love. Which pieces to save. How to arrange our selves around him.

How to share. How to hold up. How to position ourselves. How to project our true nature. How to be your self. How to see what he saw. How to incorporate. How to love. How to be as fascinated and in love with the world as Walter was.

How to do what he did. How to let him keep doing it. How to live again, like Walter did. How to be as forgiving as Walter was. How to be as wise as Walter was.

If we’re not ready. If it’s too soon. If it’s too hard, too painful, too unbeautiful, too incorrect too sad too much to reckon with.

What sound to make. What to cry out. Where does it make sense.
What order is there? What beauty to locate?

What song do you want to hear, right now? What fond memory springs forth now.
Who did you love? And where are they now?
If I don’t have an answer it’s because I’m stuck and I am heartbroken and I am asking the wrong questions. The right questions are the ones I haven’t asked yet. The questions that lead him back to us. The question whose answer is Walter. Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get here? How did you know him? Me too.

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