I called him Frank-N-Furter and he thought it was an awesome nickname. We co-hosted the JournalJabber show together a few times. A few people confused us for being a couple since we had the same last name. We did have a lot in common: horror writers, twisted humor, a love of insects, and photography.
But Frank was more than a friend. You always say the nicest things about people when they’re gone, but for Frank it’s all true. He listened, really listened. He cared for everyone around him whether they were old best friends or someone he just met.
As an artist, he was genuine. He created out of a driving inward need. His creativity radiated. Whether or not he ever “made it” was not his concern. He wrote and created his magical digital compositions from an honest place in his heart.
I’ve been so busy the past few years our relationship had settled into a drive-by like and comment affair, but with Frank there was never a demand for friendship. You just knew whether you had spoken yesterday or a decade ago, he was there to listen if you needed it.
I just found out he passed away. I’m not sure how, but it doesn’t matter. The exit isn’t the point. It’s how we cross the stage that matters. As far as Frank Smith is concerned, he was/is a shooting star.
Goodbye Friend. You leave a Frank shaped hole in the universe that will never be filled.