Great waves of crushing grief appear to be the cosmic price I must pay for having such a wonderful friend. People are easily given to superlatives when describing the dead. In death everyone gets whitewashed with words like decent and kind and loving. In Curt's case, had someone asked me a week ago what he's like, I wouldn't have hesitated in saying that he's one the best people I've ever known. I would have said that in all the years that I've known him, I've never seen darkness in his heart, only light. That is a rare, rare thing. Now I have to talk about and write about Curt in the past tense, and that breaks my heart into itty bitty fragments. He truly was such a decent, loving, generous person and I can't believe he's gone. I'd write more, but honestly, I'm tired of sobbing. Melody, I'm so sorry. Whenever I'd bump into Curt in the village, his face would light up when he'd talk about you and the kids. Curt, I'll miss you, buddy. Lionel Enns