(written 26 April 2012)
This is a gray area. But I’ve made my own rules and have decided that you are still alive, especially as the process to carry you on in the forms of others has not yet begun. So I will say… you are the brightest light I know. I can’t remember the first time I met you…but I know the place you held in my mind from the beginning. If I visualize people in my mind, some are lush grass, a part of the landscape. You are a bright white light, a point to which I am drawn over and over, a happy moth.
When it fell to me to find a new venue for the Thunderdome Fundraiser in 2006, though I didn’t know you very well, I knew enough. I knew you would make a good impression. I knew you would be warm and welcoming. I knew you would have my back without overpowering the situation. I trusted you implicitly. And, even when it became apparent that we were at no risk of being swindled, you maintained genial professionalism until after we left the building. I knew at that moment that I had an ally. I didn’t know the quality of friend I had just inherited.
From that point forward, you were a confidante and, slowly, a favorite carousing buddy. Your rare combination of intelligence and humor sparks everyone you know. We are all pulled in by your brilliant wit, and we stay close to be in proximity of your wise words and, often in my case, shop talk.
Our friendship has grown over the years to a level I never anticipated. Our most recent conversations about the nature of relationships, of the evolution of friendships, will always resonate deep within me. I am honored to be evolving with you into this new world, this new way of being – of deepening friendships not based on intoxication only but on creation, of big concepts and ideas that we are finally able to bring to fruition. Thank you for being with me and talking so openly about our entrance into the next phase of our lives. Knowing that you will be there with me for it makes me feel less alone in a world in which I have increasingly little faith.
Basking in the warmth of your glow is like sitting outside at one of our barbeques, warm in the sun. Being the focus of your attention is to know that I have done something right. The thoughtful gifts you have given me over the years speak volumes of what you learn about people while you seem to only be drinking with them. I will never forget the time the birthday cd you gave me accidentally played through the speakers at work. My headphones on, oblivious, rocking out to what I had requested (“ass rap”), playing “My Dick” for my entire office. I’ll never forget how excited I was to relay the story and hear your ridiculously infectious laugh.
Our recent months of puzzling have meant the world to me. Evenings spent laughing, no libations necessary, giggling and doping the cat into the wee hours while we worked on puzzles with too many people in a totally impractical way. We called ourselves old and boring but it’s the way I can see myself growing old with friends.
No regrets about any part of our friendship. I know you love me. You know I love you. I have spent more time with you in the last six months than in the first years of our friendship combined, and you know I have cherished every moment.
Our future plans weigh heavily, but the memory of your laugh will lighten the load.
With unspeakably heavy heart and love,
Marisa
At Burning Man 2011, as you know… I was faux-raping people. I accidentally gave you a fat lip, and you refused to wipe off the blood because you knew how terrible it would make me feel if you left it.
(Addendum 28 April 2012 – Marci told me that the two of you bought tickets to see the movie, and you didn’t tell me. Thank you for supporting me, even now.)
Living Eulogy 