After being away for two days, I drove into my customary parking slot and greeted Vince who was working nearby. He said "Justin was killed in a wreck." It was like getting knocked down, blindsided. I was reeling, and starting to grieve. Justin, who usually had an amused sparkle in his eye, was luxurious in few words, at ease in quiet, fluent in music, thoughtful in work. Gone in chaos. The last time I saw Justin, he was busy building the stone wall in front of the Lodge that we designed. We looked in each other's eyes, and there weren't any words to say. No words; no clear thoughts at all; I looked at Justin, felt love, but no words. He seemed a bit bemused like me, like he usually seemed; we hugged goodbye.
Rick Valley
