One thing I now know, the reader’s here love to look at photographs. I’m happy you enjoyed them. It brought back some wonderful memories, while making me mourn the past beyond the point of heartbreak.
These were the best times, stolen away by an act of violence. A senseless act of violence! A moment in life that can never be reversed, no matter how many times I try to wish it otherwise. So much promise, pure potential, was swept away. Poof. Gone. Nice to know ya’.
A son taken at a time when our relationship was maturing into more like friends. I marveled at the man he became. So proud. Gentle, kind, loving, caring, respectful, and giving. A good son. A good friend.
Sure, I always wanted to believe he was a chip off the old block. The fruit that didn’t fall far from the tree. But, I was kidding myself. Ryan was his own man. He defined himself. He invented his essence; so completely different than anyone and everyone. It was so polished that people would remember him from a brief encounter. His presence demanded attention, in a contradictory understated way. You could feel the power radiating from him. A confidence that was infectious. Humility that was admired. Everyone had a “Ryan story”. I continue to learn of these, and it validates what I already knew.
I suppose some of his being is captured in the photographs. I hope so.
I will add more.