Hearing of the death of David Crosby has me in tears as the years of the gift of his music runs through my mind. It seems now that I cry at the death of the musicians we loved, the poets of our lives. My tears are disproportionate to the loss of someone I didn't know, and I am acutely aware with every death that the tears I cry are for my husband. The loss of him, and the longing to have him back to share the music we had a passion for together. The music that marked the years of our...

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