If he were to return alive, would I be aloof as always, or hug him as if I knew what it was like to miss him living for these 6 years. Who could ever know the future without living it step by step. The heart breaks repeatedly, and impossibly it grows again. It is a constant expansion of the heart. To love again seems utterly impossible, and to not do so is even worse.
To explain the life of a journalist with a heart would take years, it has been almost 6, and we are only getting started. We are a movement of joy from the beginning of time, resisting any and all impediments to human rights- the right to live joyfully and raise another generation in joy and in strong cultural traditions. Who is to say they are worthy to attempt to take that right from anyone, ever?