Yesterday, I received some really bad news. A friend of mine passed away. We were members of the same blog, and had chatted weekly about all and sundry. I had the great fortune of meeting him a few years back. At the time, he was 29 years old, looked 18, and had the vocabulary of a drunken sailor in Singapore. He was hilarious. And unusual, because he was a person who took living very seriously.
For him, “living” meant “squeezing out every bit of enjoyment”. He didn’t put off going some place or seeing someone for another day. He felt like doing something, he would do it. Once, he decided to go find feral hogs, because he was bored. While he was at DFW on a layover, he ordered three different Mexican meals at the restaurant, because he had the opportunity right then. Ate them all, too! When I told him about the passing of my friend, who wanted PJs at her funeral, he said, “You need to wear them for her. But you need to wear lingerie for the rest of us.”
He was rough when people were looking, and a complete gentleman when they weren’t. He loved his life, he lived it fully, and did more with it than most people do in three lifetimes. In short, he was an everyday hero.
I miss you, my friend. I weep for the loss to this world, and rejoice for the gain in Heaven. And when I see you in the future, I’ll have my comfy PJs and my llama, just so you can laugh at me again.