This evening I received the news my fellow WordPress author, fellow flickr photographer and group photography project comrade, Mike Langridge, had passed on 1 June.
I don’t recall the exact particulars of how we met, but it was via WordPress. I believe he came across my then recently started blog and posted a comment. Which led to me looking over his blog. Which led to me leaving comments. Pretty soon we were reading each other’s blogs and leaving comments all over the place.
In addition, it was Mike who turned me on to using Flickr as a place to put up my photographs, which were accumulating quickly after the then-recent purchase of my first dSLR.
Mike was a prolific photographer before he became ill, but oddly enough it will not be his photography by which he will be best remembered in my mind. No. It will be his blog. He had such a gift for writing. His earlier stuff is fine, but as the years progressed he truly came into his own. His style was one to which I very naturally gravitate in that it was quite conversational. Very natural. Almost in a stream-of-consciousness manner, but with actual punctuation and the like. I gravitate towards this style because it is the style in which I wish I wrote. Well… I do. Sometimes. Not as much as I would like though and that’s mostly because I DO NOT PRACTICE doing such.
Regardless… Mike was a genuine character. Not a warm and fuzzy sort of guy, but that was alright. It simply wasn’t him. Those of us on this side of the Atlantic who knew him didn’t even know he was so sick. We knew he had been quite unwell… unwell enough that he wasn’t snapping pics or writing, but we didn’t know how bad things were. Or turned out to be (lung cancer). Again.. that was Mike. He wasn’t the sort to let on to such things for fear of being besieged with well wishes and get better soon stuff.
He had no use for such things. And that’s alright. That was Mike. The only problem is that it meant I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t tell him what a great man I thought he was. How much I loved his writings and how it was his writings often helped me to see things differently. To even change my mind on occasion. I regret the chance to tell him those things never came.
But that was Mike. Will miss you, you old fart.