Where Do My Readers Come From?

Sunday, April 14, 2013


A good friend of mine is gone. He decided to kill himself, leaving behind a wife and a dog and grieving parents and sister as well as numerous extended family and friends and me. He was well liked. In all the time I knew him in both a working and friendship capacity I had never heard anyone have anything bad to say about him.

He lived in my basement for a year or so maybe longer, but all I can really say is that I liked having him there. I liked smoking a pipe with him now and then. I liked watching the world cup on television while his sister made us scotch eggs. I liked sitting in the backyard with him by the fire pit. I liked training mixed martial arts with him. I liked drinking scotch and cigars in the garage. I just liked being with him. I liked being in his wedding. I liked going to see Flogging Molly with him. I liked going to see him at Red Lobster and telling him that I loved his sister and knowing that he was ok with it. I liked that he understood the importance of Fight Club in my life. I liked that he understood the importance of literature and music and coffee and booze in the world. I liked working with him at the movie theater. I liked meeting him in Portland to play disc golf. I liked meeting him for beers. I liked that he liked Johnny Cash. I liked that even after my divorce I was still friends with him.

I like that when I think of him I think of this song.

I will miss him. He was a good friend to me and my life is going to be worse off without him in it.

I like to think he is with Johnny Cash now.

I am sorry you are gone. I am sorry I couldn't do enough to keep you here. I will miss you. You were like a brother to me and I loved you.

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