Thursday, June 13, 2002

There is a light that never goes out...
I got an unexpected call from the very honourable Geoff Haslam last night at about nine o'clock and was very happy to hear from him. A good and dear friend from the time of High School in Bountiful, Utah, he is living in Bountiful with his great wife and kids, making a living as a lawyer.
I was fair surprised to hear from him right then, and when asked how he was doing, he said that at other times, he had felt much better .
An original and unidentifiable dread leaped back into my chest as I asked what was going on. He said that Tad Clayton had died the night before of an apparent drug overdose. Presumed accidental, the whole thing was still sketchy, especially to us outside of the family.
Holy shine, when will we learn? What needs to happen before we figure out how to be human?
This world is full of beautiful people, radiant in their curiosity and wanting only what we all seek; a bit of acceptance, to be loved and to live in health. Some, though, are coerced into hiding their real selves by the world of appearance and social acceptability. The pain of dark actions and unasked-for wounds, covered up by thin, opaque shells of acceptable circumstance are what some have to bear. We all must wear masks, some wear and carry much more in order to keep appearances.
Some hide untold pain and confusion.
So many are lost, so very many taken from our midst.
Namaste, dear Tad.
Namaste, Clayton family.

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