Saturday morning I woke up, turned on my tablet and was hit square in the face, on Facebook, by the news that Mr. Michael R. Hudson was dead. He had suddenly become ill and died Friday night.
And I couldn’t and still can’t avoid tears at the thougt.
We never met in person.
We never were friends or great buddies.
A couple of time, we “met” as reader (me) and proud publisher (him), and I couldn’t but love his ebooks.
Then, we met as two professionals meeting each other on the job, him as an editor and publisher, me as a writer submitting for an anthology of his. I asked a bunch of questions, he gave me info and a time frame for me to translate my story from Italian to English. In the end, my story did not make it into the anthology, just to the shortlist, but he was damn encouraging and nice about it.
It was just a few interactions, but they were enough to give me the sense Mr. Hudson was a nice man, a person who loved his job and its final product, who would encourage others. Who loved to make the world of the written world a better, more exciting place.
As I’m writing this, I still can’t accept the news. I feel like I lost a relative I didn’t know well nor meet often, but whom I loved and cared for anyway. I have a feeling of possibilities lost forever, of the world being a little poorer because of this loss.
So, farewell, Michael. I’m sorry we never had the chance to interact more. May your work live on forever. May your Raven’s Head Press live long and prosper even without you.