Nothing Else Matters

As I sit here, reflecting on the last few days, listening to “Charleston Girl” and drinking bourbon, because that somehow makes me feel closer to you, I just want to say, YOU STUPID PRICK…WHY COULD YOU NOT JUST GO TO THE DAMN DOCTOR?! I am so, so angry with you, and it is eating me alive. For days I have cried until my eyes ache. With all the loss I suffered and then you so unexpectedly, my heart is shattered into a million little pieces. I have asked so many questions that only you can answer. I have wondered why you felt like you didn’t need to fix these problems? Were you in pain? Did you leave this world thinking something insanely stupid like the thought you used to preach to me, that you had no friends, and that no one loved you? Dude, for a man that thought he wasn’t really loved and didn’t have any friends; you had one hell of a turnout for your memorial.

Not only did you have a huge turnout, people were mourning you. People were sad, and are sad, and hurt, and confused, and just extremely pissed at you for not taking better care of yourself. Poor Megan drove all the way from Florida, broke down, waited 5 hours on a tow truck, and had two flats. It was like something out of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, or just some of your crazy bad luck, trying to make it from Florida to say goodbye to you. And then there was me and Tara. I know you were enjoying the fact that we got lost in Grassy Branch and had to ask poor ole Dexter for directions. Here we are, running late, went the wrong way once, passed it up once, no road sign, freaking out, cussing this road (and you), and I know you were kicked back laughing hysterically somewhere watching and listening to this mess. I know you heard us talking to you. Mostly me, asking for your help, ya know, since this was your final show and all.

God. It sounds so weird to type that.  Your final show. How can this even be real? We’ve been close since we were kids. You were one of the first people I told about my divorce. We had so many random times the last year and a half. Not so much the last few months I know, work got hectic, you did your thing and I did mine. But I thought we had more time. I needed more time. I’m not ready to say goodbye to my brother. The guy who always had my back, no matter what. Who will take your place? No one – absolutely no one.

Although, I keep wondering how you survived as long as you did. Living in a new world every day. Living on hope and faith. Never knowing where you’d be from one minute to the next, or how you’d get there and back, but going anyway. How you’d get out of all these messes that you got in. The Lord and the Universe definitely looked out for you. All those times you weren’t sober enough to drive. All those times you broke down beside the road. All those times you made poor choices but somehow lived to tell the tale. I wish I had your outlook, your zest to live, but especially after this last week I’m left in a pretty dark place. There are so many things I wished I’d told you. So many things I wish we’d have gotten to do. But, I missed the boat. And I’m sorry.

I am so grateful for the time that we did have. We made so many memories the last couple years. The times you came to the lake, when you stole that beer bucket for me at Oasis, the time you randomly called me to come play Bingo with you and Truman – my first and last time playing Bingo. And the time you called me to come to that rock concert at Manchester Music Hall, I got a speeding ticket on the way and then you talked to me mean when I wouldn’t stay in Lex that night but had forgotten by the next morning you were even angry.  All the late night Snapchat conversations. Bitching about life because we were the only two people awake. Reminiscing on the good times. Crying over the bad. I feel so guilty that I didn’t come to you the umpteen other times you asked.

I am so mad at you though. Angry. I don’t want to be, but I am. I’m mad you didn’t take better care of yourself.  I’m mad you never listened to anyone and you had to be so stubborn. I’m mad that you didn’t take the time to go to the doctor and try to hang around until we were old and senile. I needed to be around to hear tales about you playing tricks on the nurses at the old folks home. I needed you to be that guy in his 80s sneaking out of the home to go to a rock concert. You were so young. And then on the other hand, I’m jealous. I’m jealous that you were smart enough to come up with this radio gig and find a way into anything and everything. I’m jealous that you got to see so much and do so much and you found a way around all these responsibilities. But I’m also sad. I’m sad you left behind so many people who loved you. Scott and Monica and Bailey. Charlene and Karen and Brittany and all this family and all these friends.  We loved you, you jackass. And now you’re gone.

Speaking of all the friends. DUDE. Do you know how awkward the high school reunion was at your visitation? I sat there and looked around the room and for a minute I was sitting in the commons area freshman year. It was as if I was transported back in time. Do you remember those days? The days of your frosted tips and Utopia X? The days of playing practical jokes on teachers and laughing for days. I remember thinking I was so cool as a freshman because you were a senior dating Tara and you let me hang around with you all. You were like my big brother then. Always making fun of me, and then giving me a big hug to make it all better. You and those effing hugs. I can’t believe I will never get another one. I wish I had appreciated my youth, and you, more than I did.

Speaking of youth. I say you were young, but you had an old soul. I know that because so do I. You lived one hell of a life in your 35 years. You visited a lot of places, you seen a lot of bands, a lot of Nascar races, you made a lot of friends. When I said I was jealous, I wasn’t lying, but if there’s anything that I took away from your death, it’s how precious life is. We could leave this earth at any moment. Some of us maybe tomorrow. I think some of us are caring a little less these days about life. I know you had demons. I know you sometimes felt like you were alone and no one loved you and as silly as that was, I can understand. I can even relate, sometimes. But you really had no idea how many lives you touched while on this earth. I have grieved for days. Not just for you, but for so many I’ve lost in such a short time. This world isn’t fair and we never understand the plan that God has for our lives, but we’re told to accept it. We’re told to mourn the dead and keep on going for the living. But, that’s easier said than done.

I think the general consensus was, knowing your sense of humor, you were playing this joke on us. I think we all expected you to just pop up out of that casket and be like, “GOTCHA! You motherf***ers ought to know you can’t get rid of me yet.”

But, you didn’t. And you didn’t yesterday, when we all sat there at your graveside service saying our final goodbyes. But I think you would have enjoyed it. I think you were somewhere laughing at everyone trying to pack you up that hill. And I heard after we left you got one awesome send off. The thing is, I know you wouldn’t want us sad, or depressed, or mourning you like we all are. You’d want us to be rocking out somewhere having the time of our lives. But some of us aren’t. Some of us will be grieving for a while. Yesterday, someone said to me, “with great love comes great loss.” Boy, did that hit hard. Because I love a lot of people. I may not be a saint, but I give 150% to everything I do and when I love, I love hard. The hardest. I don’t know how to let go of people. I don’t know how to give up on people. I don’t know how to not be the person that tries to save everyone and be there for everyone and put people before myself. That’s not a brag, but that is me coming to a realization after the last few weeks that I am a good person. Too good for some people, and apparently not good enough for others. I live alone. I have no children. I have nothing that I thought I would have at this point in my life, and if I died tomorrow, I don’t know that I would have anything epic to put on my tombstone. I would have nothing, other than the fact that I loved a lot of people, and lost a lot of people, and I tried to help as many people as I could. I never want anyone to feel the amount of loss and rejection that I have felt in my life over the course of the last 12 years. Or the last 4 months. I think I have lost more in the last 4 months than the last 12 years, but, it doesn’t really matter. It is what it is, as they say. Nothing you can do but move forward, right?

I will never know for sure, but I will always assume that you wanted me to come see you in the hospital a couple weeks ago. I should have. But I was so busy with work, and trying to get ready to leave for California that I didn’t come. And even if you had asked me, I don’t know if it would have changed a thing. That bothers me, too. I have said it before, but I thought I had more time. All of us, we thought we had more time.  We wish we did. And now, it’s too late.

I didn’t intend for this to turn into a thing about regret, but I seem to be collecting a lot of that these days. I know you are in a better place and you aren’t holding any grudges, but I’m disappointed in myself. I wish I had told you what you meant to me when you were here. I wish I had told you a lot of things. I wish I had done more to help you stay a while longer. This still feels like a bad dream. It still feels like some kind of horrible joke. A really not funny one. But, nothing can be done to change it, only to learn from it.

I do take comfort, oddly enough, that you went out in a blaze of glory doing what you loved. That’s all we could hope for you, and for ourselves, to go out in a way that we can appreciate. Everyone grieves differently. I close myself off. I jam the tunes and drink alone. Maybe not the healthiest, but it is how I cope. It’s how you coped sometimes, too. I hope you knew you were loved. I hope you knew what you meant to so many people. We lived vicariously through you. You weren’t the butt of our jokes. Instead, you were the guy we wanted to be the most like. You were the friend we all knew we needed but never understood. You were the best, the absolute best. And this was one of the hardest things I have ever had to write. But, I owed it to you. You will always be my brother. My bingo partner. The guy who had my back since my earliest memories of childhood exist. You loved people so much, and I don’t know if you ever really knew we loved you that much back.  I can hear you singing that stupid line that made you cackle so much, “I don’t know if it’s the wine or the coke, that makes her sound like her jaw is broke…” and your famous line, “THAT’S AWESOME.”

You were awesome. You were loved. And you will be forever missed. If I’m ever blessed enough with kids, I’ll tell them about you. I’ll tell them how you looked out for me. How you guilted me over the stupidest things. How much you loved Metallica and rock concerts. How much you loved, period. And I’m gonna tell them that I was blessed to have known you. And although I know how much you loved the song, “Nothing Else Matters,” you should know that you mattered. Your life mattered. Your whole outlook and the way you loved us and touched our lives, it all mattered.

You never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. Rock on bub, and save me a seat. I’ll see you when I get there. <3