Requiescat

matociquala said that one of the things they don’t tell you about writing and selling a science fiction or fantasy novel (or even a couple of short stories) is that in so doing you are, after a fashion, marrying into a family.

That’s very, very true. And it’s a family that, over the last year, I have become a part of, slowly, surely. I am at best a distant cousin, but as time goes by I have become more and more a part of it, as it has become more and more a part of the way I define myself. It is a family of almost unimaginable love, and creativity, and acceptance, and grace. It is not perfect, like any family, it has its squabbles and scandals. But I am continually moved and humbled by the humanity of our commuity, how much we are a family, how much we do together and apart, how much we can do when we come together. I have never known anything like the quality of human to be found in our gypsy clan, our hodge-podge, tinker-tailor-soldier, dervish-dancing, beautiful band of fits and misfits. It is as though I work in an office full of the best people ever born, and that office is the world, and our business is the truly magical business of fiat lux–creating something out of nothing. It is a powerful thing to marry into, and I am unendingly grateful that I have found my way into it, and awed at the light to be found there.

I only met John M. Ford once–which should be obvious by the fact that I don’t call him Mike. We were not friends–I am so new to this family, and it takes time to meet all the uncles. But I am glad to have met him as briefly as I did, and all this day I have thought of little but his loss. He was a source of light. My heart is with those who knew him better, and most particularly elisem.

Fiat lux.

And if you want to know what love is? Go read their vows. Reading them this morning moved me to the bone. One of these days, when my life finally allows me a ceremony of some kind, I am going to say those words, because I know of no better or more profound statement of love, and we will toast the man who wrote them with full glasses.

Until then, to everyone he touched, I can only say that I am so sorry.

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