Bradbury is dead, but we haven't lost him

News of Ray Bradbury’s death saddened a great many people including myself.  But I have long felt that when we write we are sort of creating a form of J.K. Rowling’s horcrux.  Not an evil one (though it does take some considerable sacrifice to crank out a decent book) but rather that we are putting a bit of ourselves into everything.  All we write contains pieces of us, and I think most writers hope those pieces live on long after we are gone.  That’s especially true of Ray Bradbury, who came through so very strongly in all he wrote.  If you read Bradbury’s stories, you know him.  He’s right there, and you feel who he was and what he thought and how he felt.  He lives on in what he wrote.  In one way, he’s gone, but in another way he’ll be around for a long, long time for anyone who wants to meet him and get to know him.  And that, I think, is a wonderful thing.