It probably goes without saying, but I'm not going to go without saying it: John Denver is my soulmate. I do not speak of him in the past tense, for I scarcely think of him as gone. As long as there is "sunshine on my shoulders," and a feeling within me that "I guess I'd rather be in Colorado," his will be the voice that I hear whenever I see a "Rocky Mountain, high." You see, John is singing to me. I feel the emotion that he pours into that one, beautiful, sustained note in For You, and I grin at the wise crack he mumbles about the "gal down the road" in Grandma's Feather Bed. I weep with young Vandy when Darcy Farrow's pony stumbles and I soar like an eagle when he is Looking For Space. A true fan indeed, I have seen him at his lowest low (that horrifying 80's music video where you can't help but look away), to his highest high (his last concert in Denver at Fiddler's Green). Fools have mocked (me), but they will be scorned -and surprised- when they arrive in Heaven to find me with John, sitting side by side. Him strumming his guitar and me singing harmony to Country Roads.
I hope you have "come home" again John.
You always did belong in a beautiful place. Until then (see above ;), rest in peace.
