This was read out at the celebration of Harri's life and work on Sunday April 5th.
He died in winter,
a season he stood up for.
On a school day,
getting ready to teach students he stood up for.
On Estonian Independence Day,
a culture and language he stood up for.
Behind his broad smile,
warm hugs and wit,
Behind hilarity, exuberance and flair,
Lived a quiet, loving man.
He lived in his imagination.
In the stories of northern peoples,
People of war and hungry winters,
Lavish feasts and spring.
He lives,
As grand a hero as any that lived,
As any told or sung.
As mortal.
He died in winter,
on a school day,
on Estonian Independence Day.
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Mary, this is just perfect. I am brought to tears again reading it after hearing you last Sunday. Thank you for expressing so beautifully the vastness and the quietness of Harry. I remember him telling me once that he was in truth "painfully shy", something I found hard to believe of somebody who loved theater and performing and had such a huge circle of close friends. Harry had depth, and layers, and apparent contradictions, but it was all just who he was. As Stuart said on Sunday - Harry was utterly honest. And I believe that is why so many people, myself included, always felt such warmth and acceptance in his friendship - he was true to himself, and he accepted people just as they were - a rare quality, but something to aspire to. Thank you, Mary!
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