If you were to drive, through the Outback in Australia, at 6 am, about 30 years ago, rumor has it that all you’ll see is sky. 80% sky, 20% Land. An endless sea above. Your mind will boggle. It’ll twist and turn and stretch trying to absorb the vastness of it, but it will fail.
You will drive in awe, watching it through your windshield, and through your rearview mirror. Nothing but sky. Nothing but infinite blue, diving down from above. You will feel incredibly small.
A thought will form in your mind, a memory recalled from the deepest pits of your subconscious. The myth of Gaia and Uranus (a Greek legend of the Sky entity rushing down to meet his love, the Earth). In the story, these star crossed lovers can never meet. The sheer impact of their contact could devastate everything. So it is up to a Titan, Atlas, to hold up the sky, making sure they never meet. Forbidding this disastrous reunion from ever happening.
Poor Lonely Atlas, and Gaia, and Uranus.
And here, in this vast wasteland, poor lonely you.
That is what you will see in the limitless desert landscape. You will look up at this infinite sky, and see it rushing down to meet the Earth, and you will think, “Atlas, you better still be doing your job.”
That is what I remembered when I heard the news about you. I did not the remember the countless times you’ve helped me. Or the last argument we had. No. I remembered the one memory you held dearly, and I thought, “I hope I experience that some day.”
Although I can never know what happens to us as we move on from this life to another, I hope, my good man, wherever you are, you are stretching out into that sky, rushing down to meet the Earth, and laughing.