Lots of ups and downs. In November, I lost one of my best friends. Grew up with this guy and in just about every way that mattered, he was my brother from another mother. I can still remember meeting him. We’d played football together and just sorta started gravitating towards each other. He had his own orbit to him. The first thing people would tell you about Brice was that he was a big personality, not just a big guy. He was barrel chested. Built like a lineman. Like I said, we played football together, but didn’t really get to know each other until wrestling.
Wrestling is a smaller, more intimate sport. One on one individual competitions. Sure, the overall results help the team, but it’s largely focused on each competitor in their respective weight classes. Since I was the next closest guy to his weight class, we sparred a lot and drilled moves with each other. And that’s when I really got to know him, besides just how much water weight the human body could shed in a single two-hour time block.
We were what? 15 or 16 at the time? I wanna say 15. We bonded a lot during that time. We both liked to draw. Loved anime and cartoons and comics. And star wars. Holy crap were we the biggest star wars nerds around. This was back when the prequel films first started to drop? Yeah, I bought all of those first rounds of lightsabers. Just throwing out all my nerd laundry here, huh? Anyway… We were fast friends.
And Brice wasn’t the kind of friend that time or distance could keep me from. When I enlisted and was subsequently deployed multiple times? As soon as I came back home, it was like a day hadn’t passed at all. No beats skipped at all. We just got right back to it. Nerding out. Growing up. Making mistakes and living.
I still remember the first time he and my mom clashed. The unstoppable force meets the immovable object. Her motherly generosity vs his polite stubbornness. He’d come over once late in the day and mom offered to feed him. He politely refused, not wanting to impose. But the thing he didn’t realize at the time was that Mom’s house, Mom’s rules, applied. Plus, if he was practically my brother, she’d be remiss in her duties to not feed him. Eventually, he gave in and ate. Mom 1, Brice 0.
It’s sad when I look back and realize they’re both gone and now. I’m the only one left of that memory. The only one left to carry it forward. When I pass on, it’ll be like it never happened. That’s the thing about time though, isn’t it?
It slowly steals little moments from you. Small at first. A few minutes here, a few hours there. Then it becomes days, and weeks. Slowly compiling interest until all you have are bare moments in vast gulfs of blurry haze, like small islands in the south pacific.
I’ll miss all the late night Battlefront 2 jam sessions. All the evenings we went walking through the woods. Swinging lightsabers like absolute nerds. Just living life and enjoying it. I could tell as Brice’s medical issues mounted, his joy for life slowly died. Turned to ash in his mouth. Leaving him a bitter and sad person who’d withdrawn from me.
Sure I’d make overtures. Sending funny memes or star wars related videos to get reactions out of him. But he wasn’t very connected with his feelings and had issues articulating himself. Probably a result upbringing as much as his own mindset. I can’t imagine what he was going through. Sure I’ve had my own medical issues. Mental and physical health related issues. So I get it. Struggling is hard. But I’ve never wanted to just struggle. And towards his end, I felt like that’s all Brice was content with.
Like he’d given up on being in charge of his life and was just coasting until his momentum and time ran out. And then it did. I wasn’t able to attend his funeral. He’d had the unfortunate knack of timing his death right when I was taking my first vacation in over 25 years. Typical Brice for you.
I must have pulled up his obituary on my phone dozens of times while I was gone. It was superbly written. It made me laugh as I remembered all the best about him. But I’d also glimpsed him at his lowest, and those memories made me both angry and sad. I figured he’d punch out long before I did. He was a diabetic that didn’t respect his condition and took very poor care of himself. The laws of nature do not favor well those who live by the FAFO philosophy. So realistically I figured if he made it 40? That was probably the best I’d get out of him.
I got a few extra, which was nice, but damnit. Having conflicting emotions about someone is rough. The wounds are still to fresh to let time do its thing. But sometimes I wish it would work just a little faster. Steal a little more of the bad, while maybe leaving more of the good. Those small little islands in the big ocean of hazy life memories.
I’m mad that I didn’t know just how bad he’d let himself go towards the end. I’m mad that he’d pushed me away. I lost a brother, a friend, and a large and impactful part of my life. I’ll never get the chance to laugh with him while play Battlefront 2 anymore (Classic, the newer stuff wasn’t his jam so much). Or experiment with builds in KOTOR 1/2. Or play tabletop games till we’re deliriously tired.
I’ll never get to hang out with him so late the sun comes back up the following day. I’ll never get to ride shotgun with him while he delivers newspapers to feed and house his family, even while he’s sick. Throwing up on the side of the road like some human shaped turkey gobbling angrily at the ground. I’ll never get to babysit for him and his wife again while they go on dates. Just more islands for the vast expanse of blurred memory oceans.
For now, I’m still feeling raw about it and it’s been six months. I just wish I had the benefit of times ignorant theft of the pain, anger and hurt. I’d gladly sell off the disappointment or trade it in for idealistic ignorance. But I saw his lows. And so for now, I have to stand on those little islands of hurt, looking out into the oceans in search of the better memories. I’d decided a while ago I wanted to write a book based on characters and stories we created. Perhaps that’ll serve as the emotional salve I need to push through the negative feelings and come to terms and peace with his passing. Till then, this is what I have.
Confusion, pain, and bittersweet memories of our youth. While they last at least. What is it folks always say? Time heals all wounds? They just never say the unspoken part out loud, that all it’s doing is giving you a mercy in taking away pain, and memories.
Rest in peace, Brice.