This will be my last piece to commemorate the passing of Bill Hicks.
Like Yoko, who only celebrates John’s birthday on October 9th, I too will only celebrate Bill on December 16th, the day of his birth.
Early this morning I walked to Strawberry Fields. As I gazed at The Dakota where the Lennons lived, Yoko still in residence, I remembered what’s so vivid about my own loss.
Not the sadness that came with the news, but the simple wonder of all that was Bill.
I can still see him so clearly, well and vital. It reminds me of how the New York Times always runs a photograph of the person who’s passed in their glory, rather than decline.
So does my memory it seems.
I believe his spirit soars, occasionally visiting since I feel his presence often. It’s usually when I’m in despair needing strength that suddenly appears.
He was strong right till the end, I’m told, dying a good death, as they say in the Catholic Church. I never much liked that phrase, but understand it at least a little better now.
I guess it means, one’s comfortable as their soul takes flight, straight on till morning, to borrow from Peter Pan, a book Bill liked. He told me once how he always wanted to be like one of the Lost Boys who never grew up, never growing old.
I had forgotten that, when during a morning meditation, it knocked on the window.
Despite missing him, I’m happy he got his wish since now, he will stay that boy forever.
Bill Hicks. December 16, 1961- February 26, 1994