John Allen

LAX - I had been thinking of John Allen last night because of that guy in the van who looked like him. John is married to Will's grandmother Betty, and he's such a character, always ready with some clever story. Never mind that it might have nothing to do with what you were just talking about. He's led an interesting life, traveling through Africa, working as a missionary, then later as an artist. I have a set of prints of his bird paintings, which I'd tend to describe more as diagrams than artistic expressions, because they are so precise and realistic.

His art is so detailed, I wonder what he notices about people. Has he observed the little mole on the back of my right ear? Taken note of the way I hold a pencil, with the same care that he took note of the way a cardinal balances on a twig? When I slightly raise one eyebrow, does he stop to ponder what that nuance might mean, or does his illustrator's eye merely record the position without judgment?

John is gone. He passed away last night in his sleep. I am both saddened and relieved by this news - saddened because of Betty's loss and because our family will no longer enjoy his company, and relieved because he will not have to suffer a painful and prolonged death. As I hold his image in my mind now, it is so vivid, I can imagine his posture bent over the radio, and the way his hair brushed his collar, in perfect detail, like the paintings.