I was reading the poems of Byron and this one touched me;
It sounds like it was written to you from me.
With love from your 'dad',
Mitch

    Oh Friend! forever loved, forever dear!

    What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd bier!

    What sighs re-echo'd to thy dying breath,

    Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!

    Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;

    Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;

    Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,

    Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;

    Thou still hadst lived to bless my aching sight,

    Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight.

    If yet thy gentle spirit hovers nigh

    The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,

    Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,

    A grief to deep to trust the sculptor's art.
               

No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,

But living statues there are seen to weep;

Affliction's semblance bends not oer thy tomb,

Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.

What though thy sire lament his failing line,

A Father's sorrow cannot equal mine!

Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,

Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:

But who with me shall hold thy former place?

Thine image, what new friendship can efface?

Ah none! - a father's tears will cease to flow,

Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;

To all, save one, is consolation known,

While solitary friendship sighs alone.

Lord Byron 1803
I was Michael's step dad for almost seven years
and loved him as my son.
He was estranged of his real father
through no fault of his own.
He was my true friend and had more than
his share when it came to honour and virtue.
He was also a sculptor,
and his ashes were lovingly placed
among some trees in a place that was very special to him.

I will miss him.



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