He died on his birthday. So completing the circle of his life perfectly. As he did everything; perfectly and with love. At the beginning I thought he was an angel. I thought he had been sent to me and that he could be called back at any moment. Slowly I realised that he would stay with me for a long time. I let him lie softly in my heart. I made a nest for him there. I made it soft, with flowers and caresses and whispers. We snuggled there together for many years. Safe yet exuberant and joyful. We laughed a lot at the start. Everything was funny. Mostly we found each other funny. And wonderful. We spent the first few years telling each other how wonderful the other was. How incredible that we had found each other. Neither of us could truly believe it. It was pure magic. People say these things, of course. They talk about this in poems and songs. But to experience it is something else entirely. Maybe if I was better with words I could do it justice. All I can do is feel it. I thought I would write this to him. I thought I would write 'you'. But there is no need. He is inside me. I talk to him differently, as I always did. I don't know to whom I am writing this. Who will read it? Who will care? Who will sense how much he meant. To me. I cannot find him here, on this "page", on this site. He is everywhere and nowhere. I am suffused with him, and yet alone. This is grief, I suppose. This is grief, I suppose. Swim my sweet sweet Stellar. Swim, or fly. No, fly. Fly with the angels who sent you to me. Free in the sky. Free and light and blue. We sat at the back of the bus, do you remember? Laughing into each others faces. The people looked at us, smiled (I think, but not that we cared) and then looked away. We were so entranced by each other. So surprised. I kept touching you, to make sure you were real. Outside the sun sparkled off everything. It was hot that summer. Inside the hot bus, we rattled along the road, and outside the world was kind of blurry, passing in slow motion yet too quickly. There was a faint radio, I think. Everything was a soundtrack just for us. We ran on the frozen road, do you remember? It was night, and I had finished my work, and you met me on the bridge. My insides bubbled up when I saw you walking towards me. There was a magnet that pulled us towards each other. I slipped on the path, but only a little. You stopped and stood firm, your strong frame, your healthy body, your wonderful mind, your strong singing heart, your great soaring spirit. I saw it all. I saw you. The man-child. My precious. I cry as I write this. What else would I do? Soar, baby, soar. You are free.