This morning I clicked on my computer and saw two messages informing me of what had happened during the night.
One was from a commenter on my blogpage, the other, an email from my Reading Partner.
I felt an instant shock on both counts.
Of course, I knew that the days of Christopher Hitchens were numbered.
I guess I was somehow hoping that he could beat the odds.
But this writer, this amazingly astute thinker, a man I greatly admire -- he has slipped away from us in the night.
Christopher Hitchens was someone I think I would never tire of listening to. Someone who would so gamely point out to me that the sentence I had just written was grammatically incorrect.
I wish that just once in my life I could have sat and had a drink with him.
Hitchens, an atheist, taught me more about my current concept of "god" than probably anyone else in the world.
And so, I thank you for that, Mr. Hitchens.
What manner of words can I arrange, to summarize -- to eulogize such a man?
The attempt seems blasphemous to me.
The very word so many levelled at him.
Hitchens once said that he and a friend, contemplating their demise, had mused that there would come a day when the newspapers would come out and they wouldn’t be there to read them. “And on that day, I’ve realized recently,” he went on, “I’ll probably be in the newspapers, or quite a lot of them. And etiquette being what it is, generally speaking, rather nice things being said about me.” He shrugged. “Just typical that will be the edition I miss.”
You've missed today's newspaper Mr. Hitchens.
But not as much as I already miss you.