Goodbye, Joe Resnick

Hey Joe.

Saying goodbye to you wasn't easy.

How could it be? How the hell were we supposed to do without you, when you'd been the one we could always count on, all these years?

You were the oldest, but you were also the wisest.

You were a fox.

You always found a way to fix a problem.

Now you're gone. And even though we all knew you were getting close to leaving us, there's a huge empty space here now.

You left your drumsticks on the bed.

Your clothes are still here. That beat-up old sweater you always carried around with you.

I wonder if you flew off to the Archemondo.

We talked about it so many times. You always seemed to have it all figured out in your head, while the rest of us just stared at you, a little confused.

You came up with that name, and you turned it into something the Volcren could hold on to.

The Archemondo is past and present.

It's father and son, memory, synchronicities, archetypes.

Everything that stirs our souls.

Not just ours, not just the Volcren's, but the souls of every fucking human being walking this earth.

The Archemondo is something personal.

Unique.

Beyond comparison.

Well, you left us, and that's where you ended up.

And now we find you in our memories, more alive than ever — with your jokes, the way you'd get pissed off, your driving rhythms.

Like it or not, you're not here anymore.

Not on this earth.

But you're part of what we are now. And we'll carry something of you with us wherever we go.

Whether it's me, Diego or Jimmy, your hand will guide us into new adventures for as long as we walk this earth.

Then one day we'll run away too.

And whoever has the good luck — or the bad luck — to tell our story will bring us back to life in their own Archemondo.

Bye, Joe.

Have a good one, wherever you are.