This is the letter I sent to Cary the week before he died. I wish I knew whether or not he had the chance to read it.
Dear Cary,
I was devastated to learn of your illness today.
It led to an evening of reflection. About how all I wanted for Christmas the year I graduated from college was your Apple Macintosh Book. About how I ignored the family for the rest of the winter break as I devoured it, unconsciously being infected with the Mac passion that makes this business so much fun. About how my wildest dream was inspired that day -- yeah, call it far-fetched: To someday approach your knowledge enough to write a Mac book of my own.
I also thought about how much I love it when you or I refer to each others' articles in Macworld, even if that's the closest we ever get to collaboration.
And I thought a lot about how unfair the world is to unleash illness upon the best people. I don't understand the cosmos' logic in descending upon one of the most intelligent, literate, honest, and sweet-natured people I've ever known -- and wanted to know better.
I can only wish you strength in battling this cancer; reassurance that your place in the computer-writing universe is unshakable; and perhaps a tiny bit of pleasure in knowing just how highly we think of you, your work, and your company.