Stop all the clocks

My best friend died early Easter morning. I had known him since I was 16 years old. I actually met my husband through him, when we were all 19. He leaves a wife, three children, three grandchildren, two brothers and four sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, and more friends than anyone could hope to have in this world.

Warren Mason, Jr. was an executive in the casino business, who rose quickly in the ranks from a dealer all the way up to a VP. He was a man who cherished family and friendship, a man whose morals were high, and he was the man I loved like a brother. His social skills had a lot to do with his great success.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

~ W.H. Auden

March 11, 2013

He was our North, our South, our East, and our West.

Please excuse me for not having much to say here. Springtime is upon us and although I know I should be happy, I am just not. But this, too, will pass.

Kate Young