Hold Tight
everyone knows how
short life
is
how fast a moment
can
be
and how precious every
second
we have with each other
truly is
I look at you
having left your family
your friends
your country
for us
I think of the brass ring
we reached out for
enjoying the ride and not
fully understanding the gold
our hands closed around
Reading through the papers
listening to the radio
life's blood spilled needlessly
wantonly
hopelessly streaming down
the drain
gone
in a flash
Someone so vibrant
so filled with life
his presence
making the air
crackle
much like the role
played on distant shores
Immortal
And yet in one moment
one blink of an eye
gone
the vacuum created
suddenly removing
the icon
presenting the man
the father
the husband
the son
showing us this
larger than life
person
was larger
than the role played
Unforgettable
And with life beating
with one less soul
do I reach
out
holding on
to you
who gave up
so much
for
me
Reminded that
life is too
short
Reaching out
with
both fists
and holding
on
tightly
before blinking
out
2
(c)Trish Shields
021602
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March 19, 1963-February 16, 2002
Card and condolences can be sent to:
Kevin Smith Memorial
c/o Lori Joyce
24 Scarfair Pathway
Scarborough, Ontario
M1B 4E8 CANADA
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Lucy Lawless and Michael Hurst are in the process of setting up a memorial fund in Kevin Smith's name. It will be the "only" official memorial fund. Kevin's manager Bruce said the foundation will initially help Kevin's family out financially and later help young actors eager to follow in their hero's(Kevin's) footsteps. Details will be announced in the near future.
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Michael Hurst's Tribute read at New Zealand public tribute 2/16/02
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since canceled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoan'ed moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee (dear friend)
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
William Shakespeare
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