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To me, he was like an overgrown Tom Sawyer with a huge heart in a neon
wilderness that is seedier pumpkin patch. As big as he was, his soul was
still too big for his body. Was that why he took those steroids? Hell no.
For as well and as deeply as he saw into other people, he did not see into
himself long enough and deeply enough to stare into the void until it stared
back, as we all must to see ourselves in a meaningful way. But damnit! He
was on his way to getting there.
I believe he's all the way home, but that
seems like an empty consolation, maybe, to those of us living who loved Ric,
yet you know what, maybe it seems empty because we've got no place being
where he is at the moment, obviously.  So that's not really an empty
consolation, but a wide possibility or really a probability that will be
certain of each and every one of us when we go to where Ric is now.
I hope
it is in a better neighborhood than some of the places we worked together,
helping people recover from the disease of addiction. I know it is! If he
could not see that he was muscular enough in a mirror, I doubt he could see
what a great guy he really was inside when he was not deciding to live in
his addiction. At least while he was alive, he couldn't for a long enough
time to become seal of self-approval, the kind he helped set on the hearts
of so many others. Evidently. And that's the hard part.
But it is my
prayer that the peace and comfort he was beginning to feel in his own skin
has been replaced by a peace and comfort that surpasses understanding.
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