I was both comforted by and isolated by Nick's death and services. I am still amazed by how tight and supportive his friends and family are, how affectionate and demonstrative they are, and how willing and accepting they are. I remember thinking how very "west coast" the whole weekend felt and how very "east coast" I felt. I'm not sure how to qualify those statements. But there was a warmth, a spirituality, an embrasure of diverse beliefs and consciousness, a relaxed attitude, a ceremonial earthiness to people, place, and event that made me uncomfortable and welcomed at the same time. Furthermore, being perhaps the newest member of "Nick's Clan" (as his mother called his many, many friends), I didn't share in their history and at times was most definitely an outsider.

But, overall, I think this new encounter with loss has allowed me more healing with my first experience. And many of the tears I shed were also for my mother. I think I feel less paralyzed by her death and that my thoughts and feelings and words come a bit easier now. I don't know if anyone remembers, but one of the main reasons I wanted to move to San Francisco was to give myself some distance from my mother's death. And to find a space where I could finally begin to work through her passing. My writing, my art, and my life has yet to really transform that one meteoric experience. I am still pushing and trying to come out the other side.

On a more local level, I really did lose a good friend -- at least the beginnings of a great friendship. Nick's genuineness and warmth and willingness to love seemed a good antidote for some of the melancholy in my life. Plus, he was a great player in my gaming group and he embraced Tellings with all of his heart. His girlfriend Amy gave me great joy when she told me about Nick's excitement over playing at my house. I am very sad to see him go and I am hopeful that I will encounter more like him. I know I will try, even in small ways, to be as vital and open and honest as Nick tried to be in his own life.

I found out a lot about Nick's life from the words spoken at his funeral to spending nearly three straight days with his friends and family. He was an adventurer. I have a number of friends of that disposition -- Seth (who is building his own sailboat), Peter (who participates in Land Rover treks), Scott (who hikes for weeks alone in bear country), Dr. Olmert (who explores 17th century American archaeology and anthropology like no one's business), and even my sister (who does her best to do what she wants to do and go where she wants to go). They possess a unique honesty of presence and of action that I want to cultivate in myself. Plus, they have a certain frankness of expression that I myself am afraid to show. So, now is the time and the reason to be those things.

I am hopeful. I think that's the best way to describe my state of being right now. It's not all fun and games. But I know that I am ready to start pushing through some of the roadblocks in my head, in my heart, and in my world. I just have to work continually to see past and move past my insecurities and doubts and hang-ups. Afterall, a mantra is only as good as the number of times you chant it.

I really, truly appreciate the stamina that people have in regards to our friendship (especially when they have to read through Biblically-lengthed letters). I realize that I can be rather intense and demanding and bossy and that I'm not an easy-go-lucky friend. I hope people don't explode that statement too much.