You have been the Roman to my Greek, the Aurelius to my Aristotle, the Archaeologist to my Philosopher, the arrow on my tilt-a-whirl. The dry ground to my faucet.
We’ve each given up so much, had so much taken, let so much go by; but all that together is nothing in proportion to what we’ve been given and what we’ve created. You were the first person who seemed to get all there was that was unsayable, unwordable, but true. I wish I could’ve given it all words for both of us at the end, but I’m still the Greek Philosopher on a tilt-a-whirl around the Divine and you will always be the Roman Archaeologist pointing to your beloved cemetery.
Now, you’ve got all the permits and all the time in the world…. send me some postcards. I’ll be here twirling. I hope you find what you’re looking for on this dig. Love, Christine