In Memoriam

It has been an emotionally charged year for me while I read Ray Bradbury.  I guess you could almost say that I dwelled too much on my own feelings of loss, but it was difficult to avoid such feelings when I was reminded again and again that he was gone, every time I read something that was so sentimental, something so very Ray.  If you understand him, it is very apparent in all of his work the absolute joy he had in life, in his very own life.  The mysteries he wrote (Death is a Lonely Business, A Graveyard For Lunatics, and Let's All Kill Constance) are vitally a self indulgence and an homage to his life, his acievements, his very soul.  You can see in them everything he ever was.  I won't attempt such a feat again as trying to read as many books of his as possible, as it was overwhelming in it's scope.  Add to that the grief of his passing and it was one very potent, emotional roller coaster ride.  
I will make a habit however of reading something every year.  I would like more than anything to just slow down a little and take the time to consider each story, write about them, even research them, just pull it apart in every way possible, giving to the story a concentrated attention that helps me to see everything it is and could be.  He has made an indelible mark on my life.  He is responsible in part for the kind of person that I am.  At isolated, rare moments in my life I have looked at the world through his eyes and believed in the beauty of and the joy in living that was his very own precious belief.  Can you blame me for loving him so much?