Philip Michael Salter

February 26, 1970-February 08, 2024

By Keith C. Milne

No one is able to adequately express the loss they feel from your untimely death dear brother. Words do not do justice to the pain we feel in our hearts, our souls, even our bones. However, please know that you always brought a bright light into the lives of those who knew you. Please know that I love you, your family loves you, and have been crying and mourning your death. We miss you, and are honored to have known you for a brief time and to have been touched by your existence and your particular perspectives.

Phil was always full of energy, hopes and dreams. He loved to hang out with loved ones, his family and his friends, and he also loved to be alone for periods of time so that he could compose and mix new musical compositions in his home studio.

Phil absolutely loved to snow ski. I remember seeing him between Dad’s legs at age 3! He wore tiny little ski’s, on a family ski trip to Sugar Bowl Ski Resort in Northern California.

He also enjoyed golfing, and fishing was another passion of his. His love of music, particularly of making new music by mixing existing music together into something new, was contagious, and many of his friends loved hearing his compositions. Phil was always ready for a new adventure, be it another game of billiards, or a day in Golden Gate Park, he always loved learning about and experiencing new things.

I always remember Phil being particularly interested in the occult, supernatural, and hard to explain phenomenon. When we talked on the phone, he would often ask me if I had seen the latest episode of Ancient Aliens or The Twilight Zone, or would want to discuss the unidentified lights seen zipping around over the great lakes at night, or speculate on how much uncovered lost treasure might still be out there yet undiscovered.

I find myself often thinking of Phil, picturing him as a little baby hanging in his little Jolly Jumper in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, with an ear to ear smile, giggling as he listened to Credence Clearwater Revival’s Willie and The Poor Boys Album, bouncing up and down, up and down, keeping time to the beat! Little did I know then that years later, when I was in High School, he would be sitting next to me on the couch regularly, listening to new music like Journey’s Look Into The Future LP and Kiss’s Detroit Rock City which he seemed to like more than most. He always wanted me to Crank It Up!

Phil got along with everyone, was friendly, outgoing, and personable. He loved life, loved fun, loved living. I can hardly bear it that my baby brother is gone. His life was cut short by a long battle with an illness, but his beloved memory will remain in the hearts and minds of those who knew and loved him.

I know Phil is happy once again. He no longer knows the pain of debilitation, of psychic trauma, or of life regrets. I know that each day he knows peace, and is at rest.

Irish prayer for the departed

“Death is nothing at all

I have only slipped away to the next room

I am I and you are you.

Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.

Speak to me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference into your tone.

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed

at the little jokes, we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effect.

Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same that it ever was.

There is absolute unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.

For an interval.

Somewhere. Very near.

Just around the corner.

All is well.