09/12/2026
River. That's what his name means. I felt it in my bones that he was destined for something great, when he was just a nestling. He stood out among his siblings, but in ways one wouldn't consider him the favourite. But you'd have looked at him twice, and then maybe a third time too.
Gentle, shy, confident, kind, a brother, a father, a showman, are just a few pieces of what made him flow. He grew, he changed, he opened doors to a new world for me of which I knew nothing of. People knew him by name. But not because they knew him, but because he could command a spotlight.
I can't count the number of times he's made me laugh, or the number of times he's made me proud. He raised his sister when her mother didn't know better. He sang to me on rainy days, when the creek behind our home filled up and flowed. Like a river, his presence was most times gentle, and other times quite fierce.
It's the first day of rain after a drought here. The creek is full again and the soil is soggy. Splatter of raindrops on my face washed the tears away, but the feeling was more cathartic than sorrow. Avon was a book that I've read for 3 years, and the sequels will continue to write on through all the gifts he's left behind. He will live on in spirit, and his spirit will continue to flow through the sequels that will be written and read, felt and lived, be loved and be cherished. For that reason, I've kissed him goodnight today, because goodbyes are for those books that are closed shut once and aren't read again.
Duke Avon the First
RBP 23 TX 023
29 Jun 2023 - 11 Sep 2026.
