The crowd is fun, upbeat, and joyfully sad. While we hug, Lindsey tearfully tells me Alex is here. She points out Alex's husband, strong, smiling, with a heart rent asunder. There is her father, whose pain is only evident in his eyes. There is Joss, who's done more than can be imagined to create an intimate, melancholy, and spiritually fulfilling experience that will remind friends old of, and introduce friends new to Alex.
The band plays, feet tap, heads bob, and a vibe embraces the group. Then an acoustic guitar, Joss dancing a dance of life. A life vibrant, filled with amazing people, as only amazing people can themselves attract, and a life herein shortened unnaturally. Her tall, beautiful, blonde figure stretching, flowing, ebbing, and finding structures to hug, and ultimately cease against. It's hard to recognize the physical pulchritude, when the soul speaks so loudly.
At first, I'm an interloper. A crude voyeur into serenity only the intimacy of dear friends, an avatar of someone of value. Suddenly, the gears -click- and I am here. And am embraced. The slides begin, and a life runs before me. A father to a beautiful daughter myself, the tears flow. I am suddenly robbed.
As we all are.
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
12 Months and Counting
Thinking about Alexandria today. It's been 12 months since the plane went down and she moved on. In one of the ironic twists that makes life so unbearable sometimes, it had been a few weeks previous that I'd seen her pic on Linds' fridge, and asked, "Who's THAT?" in that tone that indicates a strong desire to be introduced as quickly as possible with the highest recommendations available.
She laughed at the time, told me it was her friend Alex, and that she was married. I'd meet her husband a few months later at Alex's life celebration, this intelligent, brawny, and just shredded shell of a happy man, struggling to deal with losing what must have felt like the winning ticket of the lottery of the Universe. Despite all of that, I envied him. Anyone who knows anything about Alex would envy him.
I was in San Diego, opening a restaurant, dealing with some mild depression issues of my own when I attended the memorial, and wrote the blog "Meeting Alex." Guess it could be said her timing was horrible and perfect. That night tore open a dam strong as papier mache. She lived a life that can't really be captured in photos, words, or MySpace pages. The strongest testament to who she is, is the love her friends still espouse, the inspiration she remains for them.
Seeing someone loved and celebrated like that just took my breath. It crushed me. SHE crushed me. From that moment on, I was somnambulistic. It was just a matter of time until something, somehow, happened. And it did. A few weeks later, I'd end an 85 hour workweek with the (underline-italicize-bold-all-caps) STUPID decision to go out with some of the boys before driving home. Which lead to falling asleep at 75 miles an hour, waking up at 45 miles an hour, airborne on the side of the road.
Which lead to the realization that something was seriously WRONG. Wrong line of work, wrong dreams, wrong lifestyle, wrong approach to love and life, wrong everything. Each month following was a new revelation, a new deconstruction in order to make way for something stronger and more permanent. No more restaurants, bars, lounges, pubs, or private party bartending. No more bartending, period.
It's unclear how much it all has to do with the events of 12 months ago. How much inspiration she was is unclear. Or how much of a stomach punch it was to realize how seriously screwed up my way of doing things was compared to hers is unclear. What is clear is that the night I met her and her friends, I admired and appreciated them all. And felt the leper amongst the whole, the unwashed amongst the clean, the dandelion in the tulips. How do we measure the effects of people in our lives? Is there some litmus test that can exactly determine the weight of love, support, and example?
12 months ago, Derek and I were sitting on a porch, sipping on 40s and smoking at 10 in the morning. Today the only chemical in the bloodstream is caffeine. 12 months ago, I ignored my true self, waiting for something to happen. Today the only waiting I do is for my clients' approval on my writing and creativity. 12 months ago, I had no idea how to reach. Today I can't stop.
She laughed at the time, told me it was her friend Alex, and that she was married. I'd meet her husband a few months later at Alex's life celebration, this intelligent, brawny, and just shredded shell of a happy man, struggling to deal with losing what must have felt like the winning ticket of the lottery of the Universe. Despite all of that, I envied him. Anyone who knows anything about Alex would envy him.
I was in San Diego, opening a restaurant, dealing with some mild depression issues of my own when I attended the memorial, and wrote the blog "Meeting Alex." Guess it could be said her timing was horrible and perfect. That night tore open a dam strong as papier mache. She lived a life that can't really be captured in photos, words, or MySpace pages. The strongest testament to who she is, is the love her friends still espouse, the inspiration she remains for them.
Seeing someone loved and celebrated like that just took my breath. It crushed me. SHE crushed me. From that moment on, I was somnambulistic. It was just a matter of time until something, somehow, happened. And it did. A few weeks later, I'd end an 85 hour workweek with the (underline-italicize-bold-all-caps) STUPID decision to go out with some of the boys before driving home. Which lead to falling asleep at 75 miles an hour, waking up at 45 miles an hour, airborne on the side of the road.
Which lead to the realization that something was seriously WRONG. Wrong line of work, wrong dreams, wrong lifestyle, wrong approach to love and life, wrong everything. Each month following was a new revelation, a new deconstruction in order to make way for something stronger and more permanent. No more restaurants, bars, lounges, pubs, or private party bartending. No more bartending, period.
It's unclear how much it all has to do with the events of 12 months ago. How much inspiration she was is unclear. Or how much of a stomach punch it was to realize how seriously screwed up my way of doing things was compared to hers is unclear. What is clear is that the night I met her and her friends, I admired and appreciated them all. And felt the leper amongst the whole, the unwashed amongst the clean, the dandelion in the tulips. How do we measure the effects of people in our lives? Is there some litmus test that can exactly determine the weight of love, support, and example?
12 months ago, Derek and I were sitting on a porch, sipping on 40s and smoking at 10 in the morning. Today the only chemical in the bloodstream is caffeine. 12 months ago, I ignored my true self, waiting for something to happen. Today the only waiting I do is for my clients' approval on my writing and creativity. 12 months ago, I had no idea how to reach. Today I can't stop.
A glorious morning, with the light breeze that is a constant for this house, resting on the southern ridge of the Laguna Canyon, clear blue skies, and temperatures that hover in the mid-70's belied the news awaiting me on opening this morning's Orange County Register.
It had been my pleasure and great amusement to meet Brad Dillahunty six months ago. At the time, I'd been struck by the idea that the kid had to be on some form of speed. His method of talking was fast, the ideas that flowed were always a combination of depth, humor, and succinct intellect. And always rapid fire, as if he were a reincarnation of an early 80's Robin Williams, only without the constant voice changes.
This fine, glorious morning, I opened the paper and saw a picture of Brad with his life dates as captions. Last week, after being part of a surf camp in San Diego, Brad lost his life in an car crash. He was a 24 year old passenger in a vehicle being driven by a 51 year old man, whom police suspect was under the influence. Of course, cosmic justice being skewed as it so often is in these instances, the older man survived the accident, and Bradley is lost to us.
Over time since our initial meeting, Brad's nature came to be more evident. He was a guy who was creative, musical, loving, and wickedly smart. What's more, he had an understanding that his flame burned too brightly. He admitted to me that he knew certain aspects of his life didn't lend themselves to longevity, yet he felt comfortable that like so many other artists, his lot was to make as great an impact in as short a time as possible.
He responded to Taoism, often asking about the nature of paradox, how good needed evil as much as darkness needed light. He was struck by the honesty of learning to do nothing and thereby leave nothing undone. Although quick to cling to the joys of this world, he always was striving to connect to the energy of the universe in deeper and broader ways. I looked forward to being his friend as he matured, and was anxious to see how he would continue to impact his world, and grow within his place in it.
Brad's gone now. Where his spirit has found sanctuary is not mine to guess. I thank all that is Holy that I met him, that I experienced his rich humor, his ancient soul, and his trust. And it warms my heart to know that even briefly we could connect, and that he counted me as a true friend.
Farewell, my brother. In time, we'll surf the skies.
It had been my pleasure and great amusement to meet Brad Dillahunty six months ago. At the time, I'd been struck by the idea that the kid had to be on some form of speed. His method of talking was fast, the ideas that flowed were always a combination of depth, humor, and succinct intellect. And always rapid fire, as if he were a reincarnation of an early 80's Robin Williams, only without the constant voice changes.
This fine, glorious morning, I opened the paper and saw a picture of Brad with his life dates as captions. Last week, after being part of a surf camp in San Diego, Brad lost his life in an car crash. He was a 24 year old passenger in a vehicle being driven by a 51 year old man, whom police suspect was under the influence. Of course, cosmic justice being skewed as it so often is in these instances, the older man survived the accident, and Bradley is lost to us.
Over time since our initial meeting, Brad's nature came to be more evident. He was a guy who was creative, musical, loving, and wickedly smart. What's more, he had an understanding that his flame burned too brightly. He admitted to me that he knew certain aspects of his life didn't lend themselves to longevity, yet he felt comfortable that like so many other artists, his lot was to make as great an impact in as short a time as possible.
He responded to Taoism, often asking about the nature of paradox, how good needed evil as much as darkness needed light. He was struck by the honesty of learning to do nothing and thereby leave nothing undone. Although quick to cling to the joys of this world, he always was striving to connect to the energy of the universe in deeper and broader ways. I looked forward to being his friend as he matured, and was anxious to see how he would continue to impact his world, and grow within his place in it.
Brad's gone now. Where his spirit has found sanctuary is not mine to guess. I thank all that is Holy that I met him, that I experienced his rich humor, his ancient soul, and his trust. And it warms my heart to know that even briefly we could connect, and that he counted me as a true friend.
Farewell, my brother. In time, we'll surf the skies.
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