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About

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I am writing this in the room where Bobby would

rest and watch TV. The bed faces a window that

looks out onto the creek. I am surrounded by the

gifts he gave me over the years-the Vegas treasures,

his paintings, the books I wrote about him, his

stories, jokes,  and the love letters and poems  that

are his legacy.

It is here that I write about his extraordinary life

and about the constant ebb and flow of our love for

one another. Nothing has changed in my home

since he was last here except it feels empty without

his presence. I can still hear, and feel him. As the

sunlight streams  into the room I can see him. His

shaggy blonde hair and rugged face. Every where I

look something reminds me of him. He had a safe

and loving home here with me for the past fourteen

years.

I met Bobby in 2001 in the valley. Tall rugged and

handsome-a California man. What a thrill for me a

girl from Detroit to meet a man from California. I

loved him instantly when he kissed me outside on

the side walk that fateful evening. Yet for all the

women who come west to meet a man, I found love

in the valley.

We would always say how lucky we were to find

each other at this time in our life.

Bobby was born in San Fernando Ca. on March 2,

1955. 

When I met Bobby his life changed and so did mine.

He was free and he lived life to the fullest. As I look

back I realize I would not have had it any other way.

The time I had with him was precious.

This is the room where Bob painted his famous dog

portraits. On the desk where I am writing  I see the

car parts he gave me and his custom made snap

hats- leather caps  with a snap on pouch on the bill

embedded with crystals .

What would Bob say to me now? I would ask him

for his input to my story, he was  a great copy

writer, he always put the final touches on my

stories. He encouraged me to write. Now many

years later here I am writing about his life and what

he meant to me.

If he was here right now he would make a grilled

cheese with pickles, it is now 1 a.m. Sometimes, at 3

a.m. he would make brownies and wake me up for a

taste. It always felt like home when he was here-safe

and warm. I slept better when he was next to me, I

would always hold his hand.

A romantic man , he always brought me flowers.  I

can see him walking up the stairs with something

behind his back. It was always a big bouquet. A

painting hangs in my living room of  his flowers. It

is called ‘From Bob’.

When we  would be on our way home from the

Dume Room he would pull over to the side of the

ocean . We would get out of the car and look for

falling stars and he would kiss me. This is the spot

where I will have his memorial today.

For years we would drive to the other end of the

valley in hopes to see the cosmic storm in August.

We always missed it by one day.

Our hang out was the Dume Room in Malibu. We

would go see our favorite bartender Mike at Granita

and then go to the Dume Room. We we regulars

until it closed.

We traveled everywhere, Palm Beach, Maui, Vegas,

Arizona, The Desert, etc.  He was spontaneous and

fun. Any where,any time he would always go.

Bob was always there for me, and I for him.He

never left my side when I was sick. I was always

there for him, I would move heaven and earth to get

to him when he was in need.

When he found out he was ill, he did not want me to

know.  The priest at the hospital told me Bob was

worried about me.He was in my life everyday and

on my mind every minute since I met him. We had a

bond called love.

His sudden death was a tragedy. People were kept

away who could have helped. Bobby died at 12:18

pm on November 5,2015.

I love you Bobby and  I remember how much you

loved me and forever changed my life. I don’t know

how I will live without you.

Judaysia