To George Harrison

My dear, sweet George. Sometimes I wonder about you. How you could have been the person you are: nice to everyone, selfless, giving, kind-hearted. You had the biggest heart of any living mortal, yet you yourself were a kind of god. I don't question this, question who someone is in their heart and soul, and I don't question your being. You were who you were, and I would do nothing to change that.

I love your smile. I try to remember it everyday, and I am unconsciously reminded of it all the time. Many a smile I see bears a striking resemblance to your own luminous, light-hearted grin. I wish I could have seen it for myself, seen it in person.

Concert for Bangladesh - 1971

On seeing you in person, I wonder what it would have been like to see you in concert, or on TV, here, alive. How far away would your music sweep me? How much would my heart race and my face flush even if I only saw you on television? Would I have loved you had our life timelines overlapped more than they had? I often wonder, sometimes knowing how vital the timing was, or else I may not have discovered you, really.

Somewhere in England - back cover

 

There is no way to describe in words the power your music has. I admit I disagree with the message certain songs project, but if I hear a song of yours blast out of the blue, unexpected in the shuffle, I am covered in all-over warmth, from my head to my toes. The big-band sounds in All Things Must Pass are the most striking, I'd say, the ones that captivate you in their seat, shining with a clear majestic glory. George Harrison is cloaked in an intriguing, jungle-y mystery I cannot solve but am all too capable of exploring. Living in the Material World is gentle and spiritual, and Brainwashed is your bittersweet goodbye to us, the one where we feel your departure in each line, even if the song was not your own.

Sharing how I feel about you with a friend is, I guess, one of my first steps in accepting that you are not solely mine, but the whole world's to cherish and treasure. It doesn't hurt to fantasize your smile and voice, though, and think what it would be like to have truly lost you. I haven't lost you though, and for that I thank you, George. Thank you, for letting me see the world.