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Strawberry Fields (organized-extended)

Posted on 27th Nov 2008 at 9:04 AM

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A dear, dear, DEAR friend of mine just passed away. I've never cried so much, much less in front of people.I promised him a picture before he had passed away. It may seem like it's too late now, but for some reason I feel like it's not. So I'm taking this picture's idea and expanding it as far as it can reach. I want them to build up so high, they'll reach heaven... to the strawberry field he must be walking through right now.

Please participate if you can, or at least get the word out by putting this in your journal.

What to draw:

Blend the idea of angels and strawberries together.
The angels have to be female. Preferably naked, but it's okay if you want to put them in white dresses or robes or have any parts you're uncomfortable with drawing covered with whatever.
The background can be a blue sky or a lush field of strawberries.
Drawing and photo manipulation is allowed.
Do not add any text. When I turn this in, I want them to hear the song while looking at pictures. Not bringing their focus on reading.
YOU CAN however, add your own signature to the picture of course.

That's pretty much it. I want enough pictures to put into a video presentation with his favorite song, "Strawberry Fields Forever" playing in the background. The song is about 4:10 in length. I'll then send the video to his family.

This project will be due in February.

If you want to know more about Bebo:

He was a man that took care of me ever since I was in Kindergarden. My mom took care of his mom while he babysitted my sister and me. Even once his own mother passed away, he continued to be our babysitter over summers. As time passed, I felt he was more like a second father to me, or even more, he was more of a REAL father to me than my own. If I needed someone to talk to, he would listen. If I had money troubles, he would provide. He was the only adult that put my sister and I before anything. He would literally drop whatever he was doing if we needed a ride because we missed the bus, or wanted to go to our friend's house but didn't have any transportation.

He completely supported who I wanted to be friends with. While my mother and father sterotyped such wonderful people such as Sara ( DA: serpenaya ) and Karesta ( DA: iltypyra ), he knew and taught me that outward appearences never mattered. That I didn't have to recieve to give, so I should never care how someone stood finacially or how they lived, to judge if I should be friends with them. He never said anything would be a bad influence on me. Instead, he believed so much in me that he told me it was I who could be the good influence on people. With him, I felt I had the strength to change the world if I could confront everyone in it.

He always made me laugh, sometimes over the dumbest crap that he would do. He wasn't afraid of pain, and always thought of our safety over his own. I remember the time he snatched a snake out of a tree that was right above me when I got out of my mother's car. The snake wrapped around his arm and bit into him. He didn't flinch or complain. He actually told the snake that he shouldn't be there and let it go back into the field.

Every year we would raise chicks. He was a chicken farmer and allowed us to play with the newborn chicks at the start of a new coop. Sometime later he build chicken coops for us and we were able to take chickens home with us and raise them ourselves. He also made my bunny's home and the shelves in my room. Besides chicken farming, he was actually a carpenter, and worked on nearly every house in our town.

Of all the people in my family, he was the only one that wanted me to take pride in drawing. He was the only one who ever made requests, and soon had a gallery of my artwork lining his kitchen. No matter how old and ugly I thought they were, he always made me feel good about them. Even the retarded pokemon picture I drew with crayons way back... He kept all the poems I wrote and took pictures when I was in Tae Kwon Do. Another thing that my real parents took me out of, but he always thought I should of been apart of. He brought me to all the tournaments I did go to.

What was wrong with him was that he drank and smoke a lot. But even though he was addicted, he pounded into us that we should never follow him in those habits. That's why I never will pick up a cigarette or drink regularly. He soon got a liver disease which resulted in surgery and his sister had to give him part of her own liver. I guess he was really sick after that... he never seemed sick to me. He was so good at putting on a healthy smile for me and melting away my fears.

He practically gave my friends and I his house when he thought we were going to go to college together. He gave us the whole 2nd floor to clean and make our own.

Just overall, he was someone who was always there when I needed him. He gave me a reason to never fear the world and just be myself. I recieved more care from him than I could ever ask for.

That's all I can't think of to say about him now. But there's so much more to this man. What there was and what's left. The stories he told, the lessons he taught, the gifts he gave. I took them all and all he asked for was a final picture and a phone call. Heaven doesn't have a phone number, but I know his eyes are still over and looking at the beauty in this world, including the art we all can create.

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