May we all find the strength to face our lives the way Dogbomb found in facing his fate.

I cried as hard for Tony's passing this weekend as I had for my own father's, and although I never physically met Tony, his words touched me on a spiritual level reserved only for close family. His strength surpasses anything I could accomplish, and I know that. He has shown us what it means to be graceful. What is means to be kind. What it means to be aware.

I wept for hours as his final Twitter messages appeared in my feed. I read them again the next day, and wept again.

I do not know Tony outside of Twitter. Facebook. FurAffinity — I do not know how scared he really was or wasn't. How alone he really was or wasn't. Or how angry he really was or wasn't. But in this age of reckless and wanton anger, he has shown us — shown me — what it looks like to be a man. To be a good person. That was my father's role for decades, until he passed. And I have undoubtedly strayed from his path. I owe Tony — I owe Dogbomb — an enormous debt I can never repay.

His final gift to me has been a brilliant white light, cracked into the walls of my psyche, and with it I have seen the edges of my mind with absolute clarity.

I know where my demons sleep. They will awaken again, as they always do. But from here I move forward with a secret weapon — I move forward with Tony forever in my heart; I move forward with a Dogbomb.