Tonight the news reached me that you had died. I pray Sir Patrick you went peacefully, content with your lifetime achievement, a service to us all.
It’s true you made me look up, aged 6, I saw the canopy of stars and question from where did it all come. You helped me see my place through my first toy-town telescope. I stayed up all night looking for something out there, extra terrestrial, finding instead the vast unknown in immense magnitude. I stayed awake high on emotion, in belief, confidence that your guide would see me to the belt of Orion, Ursa Minor and beyond.
I honour you and your dazzling display of virtuosity on the xylophone, adding seamless couplets of percussion to an equation of music I’d never heard before. But I remember you more so for the warmth in you eye, with its glint of promise, of an unknown future, charting the possibility of finding more in the ever expanding universe.
It’s taken us three million years for us crawl this far and your contribution to a kinder human race was not so infinitesimally small as to pass unnoticed. It’s there for all to see.
It’s true, I did look up. I looked up to you.