It doesn't seem like 24 years. Leonard truly was a complex, multifaceted individual. He was extremely kind and generous. He truly thought the best of everyone he met. He allowed relationships to grow and be nurtured. His friends were from all walks of life, he never judged people, but met them on common ground and learned from their experiences.

Leonard was able to help many people reach their goals and sometimes dreams. He was fortunate to be able to help many people financially if necessary, but mainly by encouraging and guiding them. He created Dandelion Digital to help many this way. For others he provided computers and the knowledge to use them.

Leonard was a genius and without a doubt he was opinionated. But anyone who knew him also knew he had the capacity to think something through entirely and intelligently before he said anything. His work was the same way, producing innovative solutions to problems or tasks that confronted him. He would spend days just thinking about a programming project and then sit down and write the entire program in one sitting, sometimes working 48 hours straight. That was the way he was with everything.

Leonard was very serious about everything he did. That's not to say he didn't have fun. It was always his work that came first, until last year when he broke lose and became like a kid in a candy store. He was able to get away from the computers and gave himself a chance to be who he wanted to be without holding anything back.

For years he was the Stereo typical computer geek, working in a cave-like atmosphere with the windows blocked off with acoustical foam and his computer placed "just so" so he was in the "sweet spot" and heard the "perfect" music from his speakers (those speakers were 8', by the way, and a real challenge to decorate around), conducting the music with his hand and nodding his head. I tried to get him outside to enjoy the sun. I still can see him pouting and telling me "but I don't want to sweat." It makes me smile thinking how much he came to enjoy the outdoors.

One of Leonard's dreams was learning to fly. So I wasn't surprised when he called one day to say he was finally going to take those lessons, even less surprised when he called a few months later and told me he was buying a helicopter asking me about the colors. He scanned them in several times and emailed them to me. But he kept saying the color just wasn't right on the computer. He drove from Tahoe to San Jose to show them to me. Leonard never did anything in a small way.

I was always struck by the dichotomy he posed. On the one hand he took gobs of vitamins to keep healthy and wanted to live forever. On the other hand Leonard had always driven a sports car, loved to drive fast on winding roads and didn't give a flip about dieting or exercise. Again, until this past year when he started to eat better and enjoy hiking. He bought an SUV instead of the sports car, a complete departure from the Leonard I had known all those previous years.

He was changing his life, enjoying it in a way I'd not seen. I'm happy for that. (His quest for knowledge was endless. He decided to learn to trade with me in July, we were on the phone 8 hours a day and it drew us even closer, I'm so glad now he decided to learn. I'll never know whether that made it harder for me, so many of the days since have been unbearable.

I miss his facial expressions: his pout, his smile, the way he looked at you when he didn't agree but didn't want to say so. Most of all his happiness and glee when he accomplished something he'd set out to do.

I miss his hugs. They were all encompassing, warm and comforting.
I miss his voice when he'd call on the phone "It's meeee."

Mostly I miss his unconditional support, he was always there when I needed to talk or bounce an idea around, lending an ear, letting me decide the outcome to my problem. That's a gift he shared with me and many of his friends.

I have the sense that he's happy where he is now and for that I am grateful.

I'll miss you always.