Treasured friend, you will be missed.
After a Friday night yard parties, I remember Saturday mornings when you would be up early making crepes for everyone--you were a morning person. Singing tuneless songs, we'd all wake up and be underfoot while the bacon sizzled and the eggs scrambled with some strange sausage. You served the crepes as they were done, better to eat them while they are hot and fresh; letting them sit too long was no good. My mom would help you with the yard work because you just let those kinds of things slide. You were impractical, but always fun, always laid-back and chill. It was easy to see why you and my mom were such good friends, though you sometimes had arguments. She made you think things through, and you made her lighten up and let loose every now and then.
You lived with us for a while once, when my sister and I were small. That was a good time. Later, when you had a baby, we were thrilled. He was little Alex and we loved to play with him. He goes by his first name now, but we still call him Alex, or Al, or any variation. He is the little brother we never had--though now he towers over us all--and we love him. I hope he'll be alright without you; he has your wry humour and good nature.
I wish I'd been able to come and see you before the end, but life gets in the way. Life always gets in the way of death. I'm glad my sister and mother were able to make it down, I'm glad I got to speak to you once. They had you on so much medication you forgot what you were saying, but you were always spacey--you were still yourself. [soft laugh] I'm sorry you were in so much pain and glad you are no longer.
I will always remember how you made my life and everyone else's life around you richer. Always quick to smile and laugh, always generous. You were the best part of a lot of people. I know you wouldn't want me to be sad, and that you'd want your funeral to be a party. I won't be able to make it that far, but I hope they tell stories about you, the good ones. I hope people laugh, because that's what you would have wanted.
You taught me that I could be merry, that life should be fun. Life should be fun even and especially when times are hard. We should always remember the good things. Every time I make crepes for myself or friends, I will remember you.
You lived with us for a while once, when my sister and I were small. That was a good time. Later, when you had a baby, we were thrilled. He was little Alex and we loved to play with him. He goes by his first name now, but we still call him Alex, or Al, or any variation. He is the little brother we never had--though now he towers over us all--and we love him. I hope he'll be alright without you; he has your wry humour and good nature.
I wish I'd been able to come and see you before the end, but life gets in the way. Life always gets in the way of death. I'm glad my sister and mother were able to make it down, I'm glad I got to speak to you once. They had you on so much medication you forgot what you were saying, but you were always spacey--you were still yourself. [soft laugh] I'm sorry you were in so much pain and glad you are no longer.
I will always remember how you made my life and everyone else's life around you richer. Always quick to smile and laugh, always generous. You were the best part of a lot of people. I know you wouldn't want me to be sad, and that you'd want your funeral to be a party. I won't be able to make it that far, but I hope they tell stories about you, the good ones. I hope people laugh, because that's what you would have wanted.
You taught me that I could be merry, that life should be fun. Life should be fun even and especially when times are hard. We should always remember the good things. Every time I make crepes for myself or friends, I will remember you.
posted by Veritas at 5:05 PM
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