I honestly thought yours would be one of the last letters...

because you're gone,

you can't write back...

I keep thinking about you lately.

I'm taking it to mean you want your letter now.

You had one of the most pivotal roles to play in my life.

I would never be an artist had we not met.

I know this with absolute certainty.

I never had any interest at all in it.

NONE.

Oh, I knew I was creative and strange,

but music and writing filled my time.

Never visual art.

EVER.

You took us into the pottery to make pinch pots...

you watched me obsess over my ugly, little pot.

You talked me into taking Pottery...

I loved spending time in the studio with you...

Your joy of creating was so contagious!

When I was there, I finally felt comfortable in my body.

discovered who I was, and what I was meant to be...

After years of feeling out of place,

I had a sense of self and belonging.

That was because of you.

I never knew it was there.

You had to see it for me.

When I had to move to Germany we both cried.

During the two years I was there I ached...

I had stopped creating.

I knew art was more than a hobby...

I needed it.

Like air...

I can't imagine my life without it.

From the depths of my soul I thank you.

I regret so much that we lost touch.

I was only an hour away, but I never made time to visit more than a handful of times.

I understand you probably meant more to me than I to you.

And that's fine.

It's the way it should be.

I will always regret not telling you--

how deeply and profoundly you changed my life.

You should have known.

You are a an amazing and beautiful soul.

#52Letters