To mark the anniversary of his death, Gill wrote a couple of letters to a dear friend. Here they are.
If you read the site about four years ago at this time, you would know that the world lost one of its finest people. Here are just a few things I’d tell him if I could talk to him again.
In Memory Of Eric Williams Jan. 2 1976-Apr. 22 2014
Forgive me for all the fights we had. You meant well, and I was wrong. Maybe we both were.
Four years has pretty much come and gone since you’ve been gone, and so much has changed for me.
I broke my ankle in that time, and you weren’t there to comment on “my punk ass` traveling the streets of suburbia in a wheelchair. Yes, I still am that stubborn person you hated and loved at the same time.
I also moved. How happy you would be to know that I’m very happy where I am.
I’ll give you a short tour of my penthouse apartment. Technically I’m still living in Section 8 housing, but this is far less ghetto than where I was before.
The kitchen’s a bit bigger, and dining room and living room are open concept. My bedroom is bigger than my old one, and the bathroom’s right next door. Unlike my old place I have to pay for laundry, but if that’s the only issue it’s pretty alright.
I also moved churches. I now am basically the only white person in the congregation. Sometimes looking at well dressed black men makes me think of you, and I am sad for a moment. Don’t worry, none of them could hold a candle to you.
I will always remember the times we talked all night, and how you would make me laugh with your thickening country accent.
They also say that time makes things better, but that only works for some I guess. I still miss, think of, and talk about you.
A couple of days ago I wrote the first half of a letter to someone who meant the world to me. You might have noticed that I signed off with “Ms. Thang.” This is something he called me from time to time, and it basically is a term meaning wonderful.
Let me start again by saying how happy you would be that I’m finally getting the chance to sing a solo at church. I know you always liked hearing me sing, and I know you found it cornball when I sang “I can’t fight this feeling anymore.” You might have known how deep my feelings actually were. Below the flirtatiousness was something much deeper. For a time after you left this mortal frame I couldn’t hear that song with out wanting to run and hide.
I must admit that I had some rather lusty thoughts about you when we first met. When we were introducing ourselves and you spoke, my first actual thought was, is it getting hotter in here or is it just you? I also wondered how you felt about inter-racial marriage. I’ll also always remember how when I poured my heart out in that letter and you didn’t laugh how good it made me feel. For the record, you looked sexy with your full head of curly black hair.
Even four years on, some days are harder than others. I sometimes see cool nerd stuff on TV and think to myself “gotta call Eric to tell him.” But then I reach to dial your number, and reality slaps me hard and fast. Someone else has your number, and would probably frown on some weirdo from another country phoning
I miss your calls on my birthday. You with that sexy Southern accent, yum-yum!
Seriously, they didn’t make a lot like you, a true gentlemen. They also say the good die young, and you were one of the best. When I see you again, know your getting a hug from me, and a kiss on the cheek.
Your hair looked blue to me.