One Less Star in the Sky

"Sands"  by SVII 

Doug and I just got home Monday night from bidding farewell to our good friend Lisle.  He was a man of many talents.  The greatest among these, in my humble opinion, was his ability to see into the soul of a person, and somehow despite the shortness of our time together, Lisle truly did see the Me inside Stacy.    He was an artist, a writer, a photographer, a friend, a gift, and he will be missed.

I met Lisle when my husband, who had known Lisle for years, introduced me shortly before Doug and I were married.  Lisle was the first of Doug's many friends that he wanted me to meet.  Perhaps it was because I was a writer, or maybe it was just because Doug knew that Lisle is who would understand me best.  In any case, I sadly only got short little visits with him on our rare trips out to Roosevelt.

So unlike most of his friends, I knew him in only the briefest of ways.  Yet I felt a distinct and powerful loss as I sat in the hospital with all of his friends and family and had the honor to watch him pass from this life.  Only a few visits in the nearly seven years I have known him, but since time was always short, he was the one friend we tried our best to see during our brief visits.  Lisle actually knew me better after those few hours than people who have known me for many more years.  I told Doug he was one of only a very small number of people in this world that I knew understood what made me tick.  That was Lisle.  If he was your friend, then you were his forever.  It was like an elite club, and it was an honor to be part of it.

His friends describe him as "the hub"; he kept track of everyone and then kept us all posted.  He wrote a monthly email that was always anticipated.  I loved to have Doug read them to me.  Doug said, "Due to Lisle's illness many might have thought that he lived through his friends, but in reality his friends lived through him."  Lisle was a refining lens on the world.  A camera seeing the beauty in lost places and the glory beyond the lightness of life that can only be held within the dark and shadows.  Perhaps it was because he dwelt so near the edge of death a greater part of his life, but he had a way of seeing people and the world that was unique to Lisle alone.  

I will never forget the chuckle and knowing look from Lisle when I said, "I am myself dark and morbid."  He knew what I meant, and he understood the goth chick underneath the English professor exterior.  He understood the darkness inside me, and knew it was a part of the greater whole.  The brief glimpses into the world he created left me with a hunger for more.  The literary adventures he took me on will haunt the edges of my dreams until I see him on the other side.  I always grieve the loss of a great artist, but this time is more poignant.

The world will be a darker place without Lisle, and that is oddly apropos since he was a light to so many others.  Some called him friend, others, an artist, but to me, a fellow writer, he was also one of the dark muses ... a person that helps keep the creative mind active, nimble, and ready to write.  Someone willing to see beyond the trite flowery phrases to the deeper intensities within life.  Lisle was a creative shadow, so to speak, an inspiration through his own work and artistic ventures.

Let the shadows fall, so the black can unfurl its words. After all the black is only night, the end of this day and the beautiful star-lit beginning of the next adventure.  For now, goodnight friend, 'may flights of angels sing you to your rest.'  Until the next story ... "Stay Frosty" Lisle, and I will do my best to do the same.

In Memory of Lisle Nicholas Lundstrom

January 30, 1976 - February 8, 2011

May Scape's sands blow you to new adventures.

"Vast" by SVII


"Not everything Black is Dark; not everything White is Pure." ~ SVII