Sorry for the extended break from our story of the dead rock star Rory and his younger buddy Paul. I was offline in the Dominican Republic for most of last week.
Catch the earlier installments here.
Galaxy said the song he wrote to memorialize Rory was all about how some places, and some people, just get “used up” and someone or something new has to replace them or they die. He told me he thought Rory was all “used up.” He thought Rory had had enough of life and that his death would free him to find something new, something exciting like how those images of a new planet were so exciting. He said the look in Rory’s eyes that afternoon when looking at and discussing those photos of Mars was something that was no longer ever there the handful of times Galaxy met up with Rory in the last 10 years or so.
“So I think he’s happy and this was a positive thing,” he finished.
“Interesting,” I said. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks Rory just grew older and wiser and wasn’t as surprised or as naïve about many of the things he used to be that way about. But you may have a point. And that rocky terrain on Mars was definitely mesmerizing.”
Galaxy walked back to the funeral and it was probably the last time I was going to see him. This was probably the last time I was going to see many of the characters that Rory brought into my world. When I walked back, it wasn’t surprising to see that the only funeral-goers remaining were three women, each standing on their own and each crying with some degree of volume. I recognized two as Rory’s ex-girlfriends, one of whom I knew like a big sister. Although I probably should have continued to let Chloe Desmertes have her personal moment, I went up and had a nice long hug with her.
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