Robert John Mallin was 22 years old when his life was stolen by a murderer at 6AM on February 16th.
I’ve heard it said that the day AFTER Valentine’s Day is the statistical highpoint for breakups but it was the day after that when one of my dearest friends was senselessly slaughtered and taken from those who cared about him. Keep in mind, while I am prone to metaphor, none is intended here; his heart does not beat. His brain does not function. He is literally a corpse, killed by multiple bulletwounds. The plans for the funeral are underway.
He was my friend. My roommate. My confidante.
Now he is dead and waiting to be lowered into the ground.
NOTHING can repay for loss that his MURDER has brought about. He was shot multiple times. His death is nothing shy of murder. There is nothing that can compensate for the hole that his absence leaves in the heart of his friends.
He was a bright spirit. He loved both to listen and to tell stories. I loved him as a brother and I will miss him so long as I walk the green hills of this earth.
He would have wanted an epitaph in the style of Hunter S. Thompson. That may take me awhile to find the words to express.
But for now, his absence BURNS. It stings, it pricks, it wounds. I would give my life to have him back.
However, there are no deals being offered and there can be no atonement, even if his killer dies at the hands of the state. The universe is out of balance and the debt cannot be repayed.
He will be missed and mourned and his absence will never be forgotten by those who knew him.
I would give the world to save his life. I would make any sacrifice for those powers.
But even with all those powers, I couldn’t save him and his death will weigh on me for as long as I live.
I will miss him. I love him. And I do not know how to relinquish the bittersweet wine that my time knowing him represents nor do I know how to repay my debts to him.
He will be mourned and missed.
The coming weeks are filled with struggles in the wake of his death. I thank God for the friends that I have that they may give me the strength to persevere. But nothing can compensate for his laughter or his enthusiasm. EVER. That is the burden that comes as the price for those that loved and knew him.
I would give anything to take back the bullets that killed him. I would take those bullets for him. And that I cannot and did not will sting forever.
God bless you, Bobby Mallin. You are loved and missed and mourned.
Changing the whole WORLD for the better would not be fair payment for your life and the potential that life held.
I love you as a friend and a brother. I miss you. Your death leaves a hole in my heart.
And as I once told you, my dear, sweet, dead friend:
“We are people who need time machines.”
God, make it stop hurting. Please.
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