i just can’t do this anymore. i’m not a hero. i’m tired. i need out.
rest in peace, constance carlough. i can’t even comprehend you being dead. you were the teacher, friend, and mentor who kept me from wanting to kill myself, as a kid. you showed us a reality and beauty in the universe that others didn’t see. you saw the value and uniqueness in each of us. you were like a mother and hero to me, when i was alone and in despair. i always wanted to become like you, but i never could. you were like the original hippie, ahead of your time. you were always so exuberant and adventurous. you worked to promote peace and humaneness in so many ways. kids and animals could always feel at home with you, and be themselves, wherever you were. how can i forget the crazy all-night music and drumming, and late-night walks in the snow on the mountain, and hanging by the fire? the wonders of japanese theatre and zen and new music? the inspiration to write creatively? there was no one like you in the world. you seemed to go on eternally, young in spirit. i don’t know how you can be gone. there’s a huge abyss where you used to be. i miss you very much. goodbye, old friend.