In Remembrance

A little over a month since my last post and unfortunately for those looking for something a little brighter in tone, this one's going to be a bit depressing.

When Brian called me to tell me about our friend's funeral, we had the same thought at the same time...

"What if they want us to say something?"

It's a reasonable concern. They say that people fear public speaking more than death itself. At one time, that probably would have been me as well... hasn't been that way for a long time though. I wasn't worried about that.

What freaked me out was the modern day trend of "open mic" eulogies... those funerals where they turn over the mic to the crowd and offer time for anyone who wants to say something.

Not that I was afraid to get up there really... I was concerned that I couldn't do it... that I'd be physically unable to get the words out.

But my greatest fear was no one doing it... was everyone sitting and staring. People don't like public speaking... there'd be no shame and not getting up to say your part on an emotional day.

But I wouldn't let it happen. Brian and I pledged we'd have something in our head... something to say if we needed to. Something to say... just in case.

It turned out not to be needed. They had one person speak and that's it. They didn't need to hear our words.

But somehow I've continued to keep mine in my head... somehow I think I need to "say" it.

So, in the hopes of one more step towards closure, I give you my eulogy to the best of my recollection.

***

I've known Danny for over twenty years... and yeah, I'm going to call him Danny. I never got used to the whole "Dan" thing. It's hard to change someone's name in your own head after such a long time.

Danny's been my friend for over twenty years... something that not a lot of people can say these days. These days most people change friends every few years... calling them "accquaintances" to make it somehow better. But Danny was my friend.

In a lot of ways, none of this seems real to me yet. For the past week, I've felt like that any second I'd snap out of it... that I'd wake up and find out it was all a really bad dream. I keep thinking I'll wake up and find myself back in high school, Danny rocking back and forth in a chair, beating me senseless in his latest video game he'd bought... or sitting in his living room getting mad at me for reading comics quicker than him. That's the Danny I'll remember.

But being here today, it's kind of a reality check. This really is all happening. This isn't going away. It's something we all have to find a way to deal with.

To me, Danny will always be the friend who was ready to do anything at anytime. I'm sure every group of friends has one... Danny was ours. He was the guy who would be driving around the desert in the morning, hear an ad on the radio, and drive all the way to San Diego for a concert that night. He didn't argue about it. He never had "better things to do." That wasn't Danny.

To me, Danny was the friend who was always there for me. I may not have realized it a month ago... but I do now. He was the one who I shared a locker with in high school... the one who offered to share his locker with me even though he'd gotten up early to get one and I had gotten there too late. He didn't care. He offered it and didn't hesitate. He was the one who I spent every Wednesday after school with for almost two years, racing down Main Street to the comic store, then going to his house to read everything we'd bought. He helped me move when we'd barely talked in months. He'd call to offer concert tickets when we hadn't seen each other in ages. No matter how many days, weeks, months it had been... he'd be there and he wouldn't hesitate to do it.

In my life, I was never lucky enough to have a sibling. I've always been a little jealous of that bond. But what I was lucky enough to have is a group of friends that I can't imagine being closer to if we were blood. Danny was one of those friends.
So, to me... today, I feel like I lost more than a friend. In a lot of ways, I feel like I lost a brother.

I was fortunate enough to see Danny a couple weeks ago while he was in the hospital. It was only for an hour and a half or so... but it felt like we'd never skipped a beat. We could just as easily have had the same conversation one day after high school... or on the way to a Pearl Jam concert... or hanging out around his dining room table playing poker. It wasn't the conversation you'd expect to have with someone in his situation. He was full of hope... his spirits were high. We talked about going to the Star Wars convention next May he wanted to go to so badly.

And just like that... it was over. Like I said, it just doesn't seem real.

One of the last things Danny said to me that day before I left was, "I hope if nothing else... what I'm going through makes you guys really live your lives."

And I believe he meant that. Even with all the pain he was in... with how afraid he must have been inside, he was thinking of us. He was hopeful that we'd see what he went through and realize that it really could have been any of us. I'm about one month younger than Danny... and trust me, that fact has not been lost on me over the past few weeks. It really could have been any of us.

So, I hope... I really hope that if you are going to take something away from this service today, I hope it's that. I hope that you take hold of that hope... that wish that Danny had. I hope you go home tonight and look at your life... and find that thing you've always wanted to do... that place you've always wanted to go. Find it... and do it. Go on that trip. Write that novel. Get married. Have kids. Whatever it is that you've been pushing off til later, do it... because if we've learned anything in this past month, there may not be a later.

I think the greatest gift... the greatest tribute that any of us could pay to Danny's memory would be to sit back a year from now... one year from today and examine your life. I hope that you all find something... anything... that you did that Danny inspired you to do. Something you wouldn't have done without that wish that we would all go and live our lives like every day is the last. I think... I believe that's the least we can do for someone who meant so much to all of us.

I'm going to let someone else come up here now and share their memories... but before I do, I've got one thing left to say to Danny... and a lot of people will laugh... but I do it because I know Danny would have loved it.

The Force will be with you, my friend... always.

***