15_10_28

July 2008, at the mailboxes. You were welcoming and friendly (not too much). I attempted a jovial exchange. “You seem sad.”

I am grateful for your ribald humor, unvarnished honesty, genuine warmth, and sincere support.

I am grateful that you never minced words about your illness.

I am grateful that you died how you wanted to die.

A favor: if our new neighbor is “part of the greed machine” (your words, and, unfortunately quite the possibility in current San Francisco housing market), haunt the shit out of them.

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