He was the most masterful actor I had ever seen. I could sit for an hour watching him and it seemed like a minute. Soon, Wednesday nights became a utopia. Nothing took precidence over Sherlock and I mean nothing!
He succeeded in making me smile, when nothing could. I would wrap up in an old blanket and go into a vegetative state. Sherlock was my respite. He was always there when I needed to take a break from the depressing monotony.
"How can I ever thank you?" Those words are familiar to everyone. How many times have you been in a situation where you searched for the right words to show how you felt? How many times did you find them? I know that if I had ever met Jeremy, I wouldn't have been able to speak. Being in his presence would have been silencing in itself, but I could never have expressed what he meant to me in words. A vocabulary of that magnitude has yet been spoken.
My pencil and paintbrush are my voice. I use them in an attempt to share my feelings with others. There are always those who don't understand, and perhaps never will. Asking them to do so is not my endeavor. My endeavor is simply to thank Jeremy in any way I can.
