Goodbye, Kurt Vonnegut. Thank you for making me see the absurdity of war. Thank you for teaching me to question control. Thank you for helping me to think. Thank you for making me laugh myself sick.
I’d say you never knew that you imparted these things to me, but I saw you give a lecture once. I was seated in the balcony, eye level with your podium. You talked about the joy you had in not using your computer for anything other than playing chess. You shared tales from your adventures in walking around the city, procuring supplies to mail a letter (you got to check out a lovely woman who sold you stamps), and as you spoke, you looked often at me. So although I’m sure you did not remember me, I think in those moments you knew that you had reached me. When I read the story in Timequake, I could hear your voice and see your tired, sad, mischievous eyes looking at me. It made me happy.
I heard the news this morning that you were gone, and I was very sad for a moment. But then I was happy, knowing how much this world had wearied you, however much you still loved it. I hope your final moments were peaceful. You will be missed.
So it goes.