For Lewis

Lewis was a dear soul. He worked with us and cheered us up with his stories. One would never know how sick he was. He never let on, with his upbeat outlook on life. I hear he took a turn for the worst last week and then passed away.

The term passing away suggests he was (or we are) here temporarily, just paying a visit. Not sure if I like the thought, since his voice is still ringing in my ears and I feel like he will poke his head in the door any minute now, asking me how it's going.

While his physical being may have come down to ashes, I feel that his spiritual self lives on. "I must not forget him, I must not forget him, I must not forget him," I tell myself going over his images in my mind. Otherwise, he will truely pass.

For me, he did not die. He is just a friend I have not heard from in a while.