Tomorrow I shall write of my adventures to the Between, but for not a bit of mourning is appropriate.
My dear friend Ashley Trautwein took her life last night. There are no words that one can say for something so sudden. Silence is appropriate. Stories of the dead are appropriate. Wailing in pain and shedding tears for the deceased is especially appropriate.
I remember you, Ashley, when you cut off your hair and looked so beautiful. I remember you, Ashley, when we decided to go to Whitefish, but you had forgotten your ID so we couldn’t go, but we made a night out of it anyway. I remember you, Ashley, when we came to your house and you showed off your beautiful son.
When I dress up in calf length boots, I’ll remember you, Ashley. When I do things that are a little wild, I’ll remember you, Ashley. When I drink absinthe, I’ll remember you. When I journal, I’ll remember you. When I look upon your husband and your son, I shall remember you.
I am the Raven, and the Raven am I. Come, come, come and fly.
A safe journey home, my friend.