Brian

In the past few years that I have known my friend Brian I have learned so much about friendship and life from him. One of the few people on this planet I know I could reach out to at any hour of the day or night and certainly one of the best friends I've ever had the honor of knowing. He was truly an extraordinary soul that I was privileged to have in my life. I lost that friend to his cancer battle this morning. I'm not sure where to place my emotions just yet. I've cried until I can't cry anymore, or so I think, and then it starts again. The past few weeks have been so hard as his condition worsened. I tried to visit Brian at his apartment every day if possible.

So much of me wants to SCREAM in anger. Anger that years ago when his doctors diagnosed him with this hideous disease they told him he'd never live to see 30 and he died this morning just a week short of his 30th birthday. THAT is not fair. Anger that my calendar says that on July 11th I have a birthday party to attend, Brian's birthday party, and instead his funeral is scheduled to be that day. Anger that I have to bury my friend and the only person I want to call at 3am when I can't sleep because I'm upset about doing so IS him.

I'm comforted that Brian left exactly how he expressed he wanted to in these last few weeks; surrounded by family and friends, not in a hospital. Each of his close family members and close friends were able to be in his apartment all day yesterday after we were contacted to know that things were looking worse. Popping into his room, from time to time, to say hi and visit and then spending time in the other room letting him rest. Brian never pretended that nothing was wrong and as the evening wore on he called his family in to make sure they went over his funeral arrangements one more time with him. In typical Brian style he joked about what songs he refused to have played at his funeral because they were either "too dramatic" or "been done too many times before." His good friend and oncology nurse pulled his family aside to make sure they knew that Brian was making those arrangements because he knew his time was getting shorter.

I want to run in circles because my brain can't wrap itself around what my heart is feeling.

Brian's mom put it best when she said to me last night "I have learned a lot about the process of dying from Brian but, oh, how I've learned so much more about living from him." I couldn't agree more.

After having spent most of the day at Brian's I had to come home to let the dog out and almost didn't go back. I'm so glad I went back, one last time, to see if his friends and family who were gathered there needed anything else. Besides, I knew I couldn't sleep. It was almost 2am when I left his place, but before I did, I stepped into Brian's bedroom to say goodnight because he had woken up again. He perked his eyes up and said "hey!" in a tone that seemed to so casually say "hey there buddy what's up?!", though his voice was soft and strained. I told him I didn't want to disturb him but just wanted to say goodnight before I left. I told him I would see him tomorrow, though. The last thing Brian said to me was "did you have a good time?!" Maybe he was referring to the time I spent hanging out with his friends and family in the next room, or maybe he was referring to the time I've been lucky enough to spend with him on Earth. Either way, he didn't reciprocate when I said I'd see him tomorrow, rather he just said "ok, love you" with a "we'll see about that" tone in his voice and a smile out of the corner of his mouth. He looked at me as I left as if he knew something I didn't know.

A few short hours later, Brian's last remaining close friend finally made it into town on the red-eye flight from Seattle. He got to Brian's apartment at 6am, directly from the airport. Brian passed away 30 minutes later, with his mom at his side, having said goodbye to every close person in his life. She sang him a song that she used to sing to him as he fell asleep when he was a child. As she started to sing it for a second time he stopped breathing.

Yep, Brian, to answer your question I did have a good time. I really really hope you did, too. I'll take your lessons of strength, friendship, devotion and humor with me EVERY single day of my life. I will carry with me the sound of your voice when I need to be calmed down at 3am for whatever pickle I've gotten myself into and no one is there to call. I'll remember hearing you for the last time and I'll answer your question over and over again in my head when I get sad: "Yes. I had a good time."

I can't promise that I won't dial your number still from time to time, just out of habit. No promises that I won't be sad you're gone. But I've got promises for days that I'll never forget you as long as I live.

I hope when it's my time to go I can look back at this life and say "I had a good time" and then turn towards heaven where I know I've got a buddy waiting to show me around. Save me a seat.

Happy early birthday, Brian.
I will miss you until I see you again.

Love always,
Mason.