Man, part of me
is mad at you. Don’t worry: it’s not the same sort of pissed off I got
when you wouldn’t dump the trash when it got smelly or when I found out you
tried jicama without me after I’d tried to get you to eat it for the 3-year
duration of our dating life. I’m mad that
you didn’t call, that you didn’t reach out to me or any of the other close
friends you have, not to mention your mom & brother. Now I’ll never get to hear you crack jokes
and laugh, or hear you play guitar or sing or complain or talk like Butthead or
Bruce Lee. I’ll never see more pictures
of you with Violet & Indigo, or see you play with them—the biggest kid of
all. I’ll never know what you would’ve
looked like when you got old, I’ll never know what you’d have worn to your next
wedding. All I have are memories now.
Of course, I’m
mostly sad. Part of it is selfish: you were one of my best friends in the whole
world, & now you’re gone. When we
broke up, so few people understood. I
remember what you said that day: “If we
stay together, I will start hating you, and I love you too much for that.” And when I said, “I know, me too,” I totally
meant it. We were such good friends that
people couldn’t understand why we weren’t into the romantic thing anymore. But we wanted to stay friends, so we broke
up, and we did stay friends—good ones. When
you got really good gossip, you’d always call me. Your gossip was the best. We’d laugh & laugh & laugh &
judge & laugh some more. And… I did some pretty interesting stuff after we
broke up, & you were always right there, a true friend. You didn’t get jealous, mad, or preachy. You waited a decent interval before dating
someone younger, thinner, & nicer than me, & then bought all of Van
Halen’s albums I didn’t already own on CD for me for my birthday. You were the first to say “That guy Paul is
cool.” You were perhaps one of a handful
of people who understood my whacko relationship with
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You were
there to help me move when I needed help.
You were on the phone to make me laugh when I was sad. You met me for coffee when I was in
town. We carpooled. We talked.
We shared. We laughed. We played “Who’s
Who at the Santa Cruz Fellowship.” When you
shared stuff with me, I was supportive, just as you always were of me. You can’t find that sort of friendship just
anywhere, especially with exes! We were
a collective miracle.
I wish when we’d
last talked that I’d been more perceptive.
You sounded unhappy, but I thought you’d snap out of it. Maybe because I loved you so much, I had you
on a pedestal. How could someone so
smart, so funny, so good looking, so talented, so creative, so well-liked, with
such a huge package think that ending his life was a good idea? The idea was totally foreign to me because I
only thought GREAT when I thought of you.
When we last talked, I’d called to tell you how people you barely knew
at an event 2 hours from your house were talking about how much they liked you
& how awesome you were. I guess you
didn’t feel that awesome on April 11. And
I feel so horrible that you felt so isolated from all of us who love you that
you didn’t reach out to one of us. You
probably never knew it, but I’d ration my phone calls to you, because if I’d
called as often as I’d felt like it, we’d have been on the phone every day,
& I didn’t want to take up your time.
Now, I wish I would’ve just blown up your cell daily. But I didn’t want to be a bother. Now I never get to bother you again, and we
both know that was one of my favorite things to do!
Brian, I will
miss you breaking pencils in half. I
will miss your style of burrito-eating.
I will miss listening to Black Sabbath with you. I will miss talking like the Godfather when
we had something intense to say to each other.
I will miss your smile, your laugh, the unique way you played
guitar. I will miss watching “KISS:
X-treme Close Up” with you. I will miss
your renditions of fight scenes from “Enter the Dragon.” I will miss you asking Violet rapid-fire
questions & running around on the couch with her with your shoes on,
laughing. I will miss you holding up
Indigo, giggling, & seeing the red of his hair highlighted in yours. I will miss hearing stories about your
brother, your mom, Violet, Indigo, & Barry.
I will miss giving you crap. I
will miss gossiping with you. I will
miss eating cookie dough with you. I
will miss watching people who don’t even know you photograph you.
Basically, I
will just miss you, period. I love you,
Man. I will always remember you, and the
memory will always be dear. And I’m sure I’m just one of many who feels
this way. Rest in peace.
