Last Wednesday my friend Joe took his life. The news of his death only reached New York today, and I'm still reeling. We all are.

Every few months, I'd entice Joe over for a roast beef dinner. He'd come late, straggling in after a drawing lesson, and linger for hours. We talked Buddhism, and art, and librarianship (of course....). He loved my cooking, and I loved the kind, confident way he encouraged me in drawing, and in photography.

Depression is cruel, or at least that's how I remember it. The world closes down, and we are deceived into thinking that there are no choices. We forget that we are loved. And that's what pains me. In the end, maybe Joe forgot how much we loved him.

For now, I am going to pretend that he is on an extended trip to Alaska. I imagine him hiking along a trail, wandering ahead. Maybe he went to get things ready for the rest of us. I don't know. Joe, I miss you.