I wish I could create a worthy tribute to the joyous energy that was Peter. I would tell a rich and witty story, but lack the eloquence. I would write a poem, or sing a song to him, but these muses have never spoken to me.

I wish I could have been there for his memorial, to share the tears and to be part of the celebration of Peter’s life. As I look and see the happiness, the love and life in the pictures shared here, there are so many emotions, so many ways I feel gratitude for having known him. All I can do here is to try to say in a few stumbling words what Peter meant to me. And no matter how many times I write and rewrite, it just won’t come out right. But I have to try, and say at least one thing I left unexpressed.

Years ago, Peter helped me through the darkest hours of my life. Quietly shared experiences, confidences, and single malt told me I wasn’t crazy, and that love and hope can be real and painful and worth struggling and striving and living for.

I was never able to thank him or even really tell him – I’ve always been crap as a friend – but Peter understood, no, knew well the darkness I was in, and helped me open a door to life and to happiness. So beautiful to see he had found his, and so excruciatingly sad for those who love him most that he was torn from them.

Thank you, my friend. I shall always cherish you in my heart.

Karl