I can’t decide if I should write to you or for you, the words could never do you justice.

 

Reading that message early on a Sunday morning that you had passed away…I never want to feel that again, I think I howled like an animal in pain. There is a weight on my chest that I haven’t been able to shake and it will weigh me down for sometime. There is a you shaped void in the world that no one is good enough to ever fill. The strength of your brother to deliver that message must have taken his all and my thoughts are with your family,their loss must be so much greater than mine.

 

You were my longest running friend and put up with me so admirably, which is mainly due to the fact that you genuinely cared for everyone…and… lets be honest, I was never easy to be friends with.

But to you I wasn’t a chore, you made me feel loved and wanted for a decade and you never fucking waivered, I certainly taxed you on occasion yet you never begrudged me. Never stayed angry at me for long. That in itself is a testament to the strength of your character and, perhaps more importantly, your kindness.

 

You were the same with everyone though, I remember in school and further you got a lot of shit from a lot of people and you never blamed them, just shouldered that fucking weight, smiled that smile and kept going and always had more of yourself to give for a friend or someone in need.

 

Not only were you the most selfless, generous person any of us had the honour and privilege to know you were also outrageously talented. Your art was something we all envied, but you were modest and encouraged others talents, never believing your work was truly as incredible as it was. Your intelligence was a charm that endeared us all to you, I have struggled to find anyone as articulate as you since I first met you and each call or conversation we have ever had has been a delight.

And whether we hadn’t spoke in half a year or since the day before and regardless of if it was a five minute call to check up on the other or to share a memory or a joke that you thought I’d appreciate or needed just to gossip or fucking vent…you always bought this warmth that was as inexplicable as it was welcome.

 

I hope you did know… I think I told you often enough…I hope I did…exactly how much you being my friend meant to me.

 

You forgave me and stayed my friend through thick and (if I’m honest, more often than not) thin. You knew me as well as anyone and didn’t let it daunt you at all, I’m sure you hated me on occasion for what I did but saw that I was still a friend and still needed you and answered that with nothing but open fucking arms. Thank you for that. You got me through a lot more than you realised.

 

I find all these memories of all these times we shared surfacing from the dustiest recesses of this fragile brain.

 

And though it hurts like hell to think that there will be no new ones I’m so sincerely glad and grateful that I was lucky enough to have known you and that I have these memories of you.

 

And I’m glad you were a part of my most formative years, I’m glad you gave me advice…and though I didn’t always listen to it all…I’m glad that the bits that did stick, stuck hard and true.

 

It’s common to wax poetic about those that are gone (and oh how I hate that you are gone) but those that knew you will know that this is simply the shadow cast by the light and love and warmth you emitted. This is just a drab watercolour in comparision to the truly fucking radiant and rad woman you were. I told you my words couldn’t do you justice so I’m afraid our memories of you will have to suffice

 

I hate it that I’ll never get to share a beer or two and a thought or several in your backgarden, you braving the far from blistering British summer in a bikini despite the goosebumps. I can’t stand that we’ll never go to a show together singing along drinking whatever I could steal from my folks liquor cabinet. Or that you’ll never call me up out of the blue and we’ll talk for hours like we haven’t changed or aged a day. I hate that we’ll never get to act out the Matrix Deja Vu running into a locker incident that was our decade ol d private joke that never failed to have us both in stitches.

 

Theres more…there is so much more that both myself and all those people who loved you will remember at difficult times that will put a smile on their faces even if just for a second…that memory of you, of who you were and what you did for us all but it has been difficult enough to write this much.

 

But most of all I hate the fact that I’ll not be able to simply give you hug as I get up to leave and hold you for just a little longer and mumble “It was good to see you dude”….because it always was.