It’s August 4th, again.
It’s an emotional day for many of us. Two years ago today, Blake died.
I had written a draft of this blog yesterday; in it, I detailed every second of that day – down to what I wore, what I ate, who I met with, what happened when I received that terrible, sad call… the subsequent calls, the flight home, having to Tweet out the news…
To be truthful, I couldn’t help myself. For many people, at times of trauma, the events that precede and follow the crisis become hard-wired into the brain, sometimes permanently.
Upon reflection, I realize that it’s best to celebrate Blake’s life, as opposed to reliving his death. So, I’m scrapping aforementioned draft, and offer this:
Blake’s presence in my life was a complete and unexpected gift to me. My work has grown; my voice is fluid and strong. I owe this all to Blake, who took me under his wing. He cheered me to the finish line – and beyond. He challenged me by telling me to always seek excellence. To rewrite until my fingers were nubs, and then rewrite again. I like to think that he would be proud of my work. He didn’t just tolerate me, he seemed to honestly enjoy me, even though I was (and always shall be) a bit of a handful.
So, on Blake Snyder Day, I’m going to do a few things. I’m going to read Blake’s final blog. I’m going to get out and take a long walk. I’m going to treasure the time that I had with him – and treasure the time that I still share with BJ and the rest of the Cats. You know who you are. You are brisket fat to me.
Oh. One other way to celebrate BSD. I’m going to write. That is how I can honor him most.
So can you.
Now, go write.
HRH – Princess Scribe