Before summer I learned you were going to Guatemala. This made me smile. Root for you.

Last week I learned you were in Vermont through Trisha. Training some research assistants or something like that.

This morning I learned that you were dead.

You were always my night friend. Not night-life, but night like shadow. Not many people from my old life knew about you. That's why when some people ask me 'was he close to you?' my tongue immediately went to say no.

I have a checklist in my head of what it means to be close to people. I never decided on the items that go there, but reference that list I often did when this question came. Of who is close and who isn't.

The best thing to happen to me this past year is to not weigh so heavy what I think others think are normal. When I heard that you had died, I cried. You were close to me.

I'm sorry you never made it to Guatemala.

I'm sorry that you'll never get to hear me crack another

Drake

quote. I'm sorry you'll never get to watch me make a fool out of myself again. I'm sorry that you won't be able to see yourself seeing your mom watch you graduate with her husband beside her. 

I'll be cracking jokes to you in my head until I die. I'll be listening to your caring responses in your low voice until I'm past. I'll remember what you valued and how you often kept me from sliding into nihilism and toxic sarcasm for each and every world cycle that I still get to witness.