He wouldn't have wanted his picture here, anyway.

I was looking for the digital files of our wedding pictures to find a picture of Ian. Or rather, Alec William, as he was known back then. But Jim's and my lives are still in boxes right now, and Ian never liked having his picture taken, anyway. So I doubt he'd want us to show it to the world now. Or would he? He had such a flair for the dramatic. Ian's feelings on this aside, I sort of wish I could show this picture to you now just because it's a lovely portrait our mutual friend Jasmine caught sometime during the party after our wedding ceremony. He's outside Pier 21, looking up to the sky, and he looks particularly content. Alec always looked calm, exuding a thick layer of grace under pressure. There were tightly guarded reasons why he conducted himself this way, and I suppose talking about that aspect of his life is a little beside the point right now.

The first time I met Ian, I had just begun working at CFAT and he was applying for a scholarship. He just seemed so calmly self-possessed, it was striking. He was quick to laugh and was so good at making everyone around him feel at ease. The last time our paths crossed, it was in Moncton just over a year ago. In between these two meetings, he became a most impressive co-worker, a trusted friend, and a fellow artist. He was a lovely, gentle soul with so much potential for good and for joy. He had invisible strength, the depth of which will probably never really be known. He was particularly gifted at bringing comfort to many around him, and I wish he could have done the same for himself.

According to the obituary I read online in the Halifax Chronicle Herald (which has already disappeared from its website, so I can't even link it), his wish was for people to donate money to charities and organizations that help youth in crisis.

There is never enough love.