Has it really been two years, Robert?  It doesn’t seem like much time at all, and yet, so much has happened–things that I had never expected, and things that I couldn’t have done without keeping you in my heart.

The biggest one was moving out–leaving the town (heck, the state) that I’d known as home for all my life.  It was a terrifying prospect–but one that I was able to follow through on because I knew you had done the same thing once (and you had a longer road trip than I had).  And if you could do it, so could I.

And so I did.  It’s been a mixed year of ups and downs, but I branched out and explored new places.  And I had adventures–one of which was going to your hometown of Ridgefield with @ksturf, walking the streets you walked, and finding the memorial bench that was dedicated to you.  We left a flower there–a rose, naturally.  And I took one petal back with me, which I still have.

In a few months, my time here in Central NY will be wrapping up, and I don’t know what lies ahead–back to PA?  To places unknown?  Whatever it may be, I will go forward with the same courage that you always showed.

So, yes.  Two years.  And, even after going to the memorial bench, I still refuse to say “good-bye,” because, more than ever, I see that you are still a shining light in this world–one that is sorely needed.

Thank you, Robert, for being my hero and my light.

[11/22/32 – ∞]

It’s been a year since we’ve lost you, Robert, and since that day, I’ve been wondering one thing–

How do you say goodbye to your hero?  How do you say goodbye to someone who you found that you could relate to so much, to someone who never failed to put a smile on your face when you needed it most, to someone who you just love and admire so much that you feel it in your heart, to someone who brought so much light into the world and into your life?

How do you say goodbye to your hero?

You don’t.

I have learned in the last year that these things don’t stop.  There are tears and there is darkness, but the relatable aspects, the smiles, and the love and admiration just don’t stop.  And though the light is dimmed, you keep that light shining, just as he did when he was here.  And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

You don’t say goodbye to your hero, because your hero never leaves you.  Your hero is still there, in your heart.  Your hero is still your inspiration.  A hero is immortal.

Thank you, Robert, for being my hero.

[11/22/32 – ∞]