In death, for the first time, generally, we can see a person’s life for what it truly was.   The journey complete, the entire life emerges more clearly than it can ever be seen while it is in progress.

Melz, it becomes clear after his death, was the remarkable individual that none of his friends had ever seen angry, or bitter, or speaking badly of anyone.   I only knew one other person, Howie Katz, who this could be said for.

Melz was uniquely talented, and unassuming, something of an introvert, and possessed a rare grace.   He played the piano as easily as we the living breathe, like a fish swims or a bird flies.  He coaxed beautiful music out of the keys with Fred Flintstone fingers.  

That much we all knew when he was alive, but the ethereal gracefulness of that thick fingered, heavy limbed man is what remains with me now.