Take bits and pieces of one poem (“For You, Friend,”) from a favorite book:
Add a favorite photo:
And a stir with a set of thrift-store letter stamps:
The photo is of my grandmother. Of course, I never knew her when she looked like this–and yet, this image is as iconic to me as any I’ve seen of Bowie or Rickman in the past week. Something to remember, I think, as we collectively mourn: That we are surrounded by those who stroll along on the outside of time. They don’t have to be famous for us to bask in their light.