Last night the world lost a fucking fireball of fun, whose wellspring of love and compassion was apparently bottomless (I never found the bottom: he always had more to give).
And I lost one of the best friends I ever had.
He was someone I could call at any time of day or night – he was always happy to hear from me. There were times when we talked nearly every day.
He supported me in the nutty stuff I try to do: teaching or writing or drawing or even just ranting about the state of the world. He’d always say “Your shit’s pretty cool dude”.
He also recognized my areas of fumbling inadequacy and pushed me to overcome them:
He pushed me to overcome my fear and really learn to surf. I’m still not the greatest surfer, but I think he’d be proud of who I am now out in the water.
And his dating advice and encouragement helped push me out of the shell I like to hide in: it’s not much of an exaggeration to say that without him I might never have gotten married….
He was also big enough to tell me when I fucked up, and if I fucked up with him, magnanimous enough to forgive me.
He will be sorely, painfully, viscerally missed by a great many people, and I feel proud and blessed and humbly grateful to count myself among them.
I hope he found my friendship even slightly as helpful as I found his. I’ll always wish I could have done more.
Rest easy now, my brother-from-a-different-mother…..
