...I've never actually said much about Oliver, have I? At the time he died, it hurt too much, I think.
And after that, well, I forgot him, as ashamed as I am to say it. Not because he didn't matter to me, but because Running is hard like that. It's hard to grieve as a Runner. It's hard to process things when you just don't have any time for it.
So let this be my memorial for Oliver. I doubt he'll get one anywhere else.
Oliver was a good man. He never told me why he was targeted by the Black Dog, as I've said, so perhaps I'm wrong in saying that, but I never saw him do wrong. He was polite to strangers, treated me well, would give up his blanket or jacket when he saw me shivering at night.
He stuck to the Code of Abacab like it was Scripture. Of course, I can't say the same for myself, given the rule against online interaction, but I respect the dedication.
He reminded me not only to be wary, but what to be wary of. It's easy to distrust everything, harder to ignore your paranoia when it does more harm than good.
...And, of course, I only knew him for about a month, just short of a year ago.
What kind of memorial can I write for someone who died before I truly knew him?
