Walking through your workspace, I sat in awe with how things were left. I hadn't been here in years and yet it all looked as it did when I left. Everything was a work in progress, a project to be picked up tomorrow. Except tomorrow never came and it was left as is, a creative space where you will live on forever. All of the tools will now go untouched. Your half-sanded car will remain unpainted. The chaos and clutter will fill in the pieces of an untold story. I am flooded with memories looking upon this image, from the games of hide and seek my cousins and I would play in here as children, handing you tools to aid your fixings, trying to but always failing to clean it up just to earn a few bucks, using this as my route to sneak out when I wanted a midnight toke as a teenager. All of these moments I was unaware of how dear this messy garage would now be in my heart. I'm missing you tonight, Papa. I hope you're riding around in the coolest oldies sitting shotgun with the Big Man.
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