A Voice Stilled

Year of the Ox 4707
28 January 2009 AD
Wednesday, 2145 hrs CST
Stormcrow Ranch
Boone, IA
USA
"Squirrel Corn Capital of The World"

"'Charles Kyle Brown           
1971 - 2009
Charlie Brown, age 37, of Boone, died at his home in Boone last week.  Visitation is Wednesday evening from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at Becker Funeral Home in Jewell.  Cremation will follow visitation with memorial services at 2:00 p.m. Friday, January 30, 2009 at the United Church of Christ in Jewell.  A memorial fund has been established, gifts may be sent to Charlie's mother: Mrs. Karen Hill at 1003 Elm Ave. in Story City, Iowa 50248.  Becker Funeral and Cremation Service is caring for Charlie and his family.
Charles Kyle Brown was born in Lansing, Michigan on May 4, 1971 to Charles C. and Karen L. (Shuck) Brown.  Charlie was a conductor for the Union Pacific Railroad.
Charlie is survived by his mother, Karen Hill of Story City; three daughters, Berhana Brown of Williams, and twins, Fiona and Onika Brown of Ellsworth; brother, Chad LeBert of Clearwater, Florida; three sisters, Katrina Hart of Sinton, Texas, Dawn R. Caudle of Ellsworth, and Annie Martin of Portland, Texas; nieces and nephews, Natasha, Tatianna, Dawn, Chandra, Jayson, Carissa, Sherri, Malori, Savanna, Lauren, and Bryce; and 15 great nieces and nephews.  Charlie was preceded in death by his father."'
       ~~From The Boone News Republican, Boone, IA, 26 January 2009

My friend Charlie died last week, and my world is suddenly a darker place.  There is an absence of color in a voice stilled.
    I am not the first to suffer a loss, nor the first to grieve and lament.  Even with my beliefs of the complete failure in the concept death, I still find it hard to realize that Charlie is gone.  I know he is not.
    This is not denial.  I’ve been down that road through hard-fought paths—the introspection, the doubt of self, the quest for something better and something I might have changed.
    No.
    E. Kubler-Ross wrote a great book on the five stages of death.  One would think this would provide some solace, the understanding of such things, but this book speaks of those in the throes, not to those of us who still stalk the Earth, who live on this side of the Veil, of those of us who still have unanswered questions.
    Charlie was always about the silver lining—there just happened to be clouds around it; that’s the way he looked at life.  Ye gods, he stormed the Earth, a man so much alive it almost hurt to be in his presence.
    When we were housemates, when he would get off the road and come home, he would shout ‘Craig-ford’ every time he came in the front door.  Day or night, dawn or dusk, and all the hours in between.  He never could get that my true friends call me Hob.  Anyway, he’d shout and talk and pretend like I wasn’t there, like it was his house, slapping pans on the stove, pouring himself a drink, and all the while giggling with a fiendish glee, knowing I would have to do the dishes.
    Sigh.
    What can I say about my friend Charlie?
    Well, he owes me money—I know that; he owes me cigarettes—I know that too.  To some, these thoughts may seem callous; perhaps even ghoulish and/or disrespectful.  They are not.  If you knew Charlie, you would understand that he would be laughing at the above comments.  Besides, what is more important is what I owe him—a debt I may not ever be able to repay: a lust for life so great it casts its own shadow.
    I have tried to find words within myself to complete this eulogy, and I find there are none.  So I will rely on the words of others, far greater and better than I:

"Because I could not stop for Death,    
He kindly stopped for me;    
The carriage held but just ourselves    
And Immortality."
    ~~Emily Dickinson

    But perhaps the best words written about Charlie are from the Declaration of Independence:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."
    ~~Thomas Jefferson

    It was and is that last bit which speaks of my friend Charlie the most.  He always pursued; he sought things beyond ken.
    And now, he knows The Answer, that One Thing.
    In this, I am almost envious.  I face a world largely alone with questions that have no answers.
    My final words on this are ancient, the battle cry of the Knights Templar:

Beauseant!  Beauseant, Mon ami!

Indeed, ‘be glorious.  Be glorious, my friend.’

And always, always,

Rage, rage,...

~~Hob