Friday, May 28, 2010


Nope. I'm not talking about pasta. Haven't had real pasta in eons. It's not that I don't love it. I just can't have it.

I'm speaking of my friend Terry whom I memorialized in Why is the Measure of Love Loss?

Wasn't he beautiful? I haven't had him in eons. It's not that I don't love him. I just can't have him.

Terry's ashes were released last Saturday on Mt. Bolza in Italy...from the spot where he passed.

I bring it up because while walking to work that night I was surrounded by hundreds upon hundred of butterflies. I'd walked that way before and had never seen any. But this Saturday night they danced about my head and twixt my limbs.

Just like Terry.

I still miss him. But now, whenever I see butterflies, he will be dancing about in my pixie-faced pinhead.

Buon viaggio, carissimo Terry. Ti vedo nelle farfalle.


  1. Tiz. I am so sorry you have lost someone you love.. He lives on in you for sure

  2. Butterflies are like that, aren't they? Wistful in that happy-sad way. Lovely.


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