Steven,
I miss your hand-painted birthday cards and the poetry inside them. I promise to one day open the last one you sent.
I faced the man who killed you and forgave him so that we both could move on. He will die in prison or leave when he is much older than you were.
I wear one of the copper bracelets you wore when you died. I sent the other to Joe. I feel close to you, wearing something you made with your own hands. Something of the earth. Elemental. As you are now.
I will honor you by Living. Thank you for those you have sent to help. They truly are Angels. They are getting me into game shape and providing me with limitless possibilities.
Blake is growing like a weed. I talk of you often to him and he knows and loves you.
Your words and my music resonate with me, today:
"...Don't you run from it. Don't you forget it. Oh no, you'll never regret it. You're gonna' be what you want to be.... Salt of the city."
I love and miss you.
ronnie
