I loved you from the first moment I saw you standing amongst a group of lustful actors, stunned like me by the beauty of you. January 22nd, 1975, a cold winter's night in Hourican's of Leeson Street, a date etched forever in my soul. You set my blood racing with a look, yet I feigned detachment, for fear. You caught my furtive glances and smiled. It was the beginning of our days together and the only time there was ever an awkwardness between us.
I know now we were destined to meet, to become lovers and later, after painful parting, to be the truest of friends (I am so proud of that). Hardly a day passed down all the years since, that we did not speak - words, tumbling torrents of words. Our thoughts became as one, finishing each other's sentences we unspoken knew what lay in the other's heart, bonded by a singular empathy.
How can I repay the endless laughter you drew from me, the unswerving devotion and encouragement through dark days and light? Your love was without condition and try as I might I could do no wrong in your eyes.
You were the freest spirit I have ever known, a true bohemian, a born rebel. You followed always your own path, dancing to your own drum, caring not a jot for society's displeasure or approbation, even to your dignified end. You humbled us with your fight against the dying of the light and yet inevitably death did have its dominion, as it has over us all.
I will miss more than words can say, your hilarious observations born of an innate anarchy, your despite of cant and hypocrisy (you suffered fools not at all). Your compassion for the underdog, your blind loyalty and integrity, and of course your idiosyncrasy with the English language. Most of my expressions are yours, I've come to realise, for nobody could tell a story like you. Your ferocious energy which one night left even Richard Harris spent and speechless in the Hotel Angleterre in Copenhagen ("Jesus Byrne, I've never met the likes of her").
The good that men do lives on after them. But we also live on in each other. It's a kind of immortality. You will live on in your beautiful son Gavan, and your beloved Dave, your partner of 12 years; your mam Betty, and dad Liam. In the hearts of all of us who were touched by your radiant humanity. Good night my darling Aine till we meet again, and may legions of angels sing you to your rest. Truly there will never be the like of you again.
Los Angeles, March 11th, 1998