I never thought the day would come that I had to explain who you were to members who I thought were not very new. Seriously Id like to take a head count of those in the office, on a regular day, who knew you. Id say not very many. And the ones that did are old now and ready to fly the nest, soon there will be little there to crystalise your memory...
Other than I few badly taken photographs, with you looking bashful, cramped in a glass cupboard where the sliding door doesn't open because its been stuffed with phone book directorys and regular office title tackle, sitting on a chipped and battered book shelf, that you probably painted. But of course very few remember that it was you who varnished the stools they sit on, you who painted the wall they white tack their first story up to. And you who made it possible for them to write any story at all.
I still wish somehow it didn't happen, that somehow your just lost out there and will come back, but you won't.
I haven't been back to your grave since.