Hey buddy
I needed a little time to think, collect my thoughts. Processing the memories and the feelings tends to come in fits and spurts when something like this happens. Lots of people have written about you the past two days. It's all deserved, whether you'd think so or not.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this. No amount of fatalistic pontificating from you or anyone else can or would have convinced me otherwise. No way. It was not supposed to go like this.
You were supposed to come back home from Costa Rica, come back to work, take care of the cat. Few people loved anything as much as you loved that cat. You’d hesitate to come hang out with us sometimes on account of the cat.
But you’d come out, because that’s what you were supposed to do. Every couple weeks or months, you were supposed to come back to visit us in the house we lived in together – the three of us: you, me, and Bennett. Just three dudes, remember? Hanging out. Cooking food. Having some beers, or some boxed wine. Playing Jeopardy together, or watching Archer, or yet another Fast and the Furious movie on FX, because one of those damn things is always on FX. We tried to find one on FX yesterday in fact, but it wasn’t on at all the whole day. Not on FXX either. It’s like they knew.
You were supposed to fall asleep on the couch again, or the recliner in the corner, instead of your old bedroom, which we'd turned into the affectionately tongue-in-cheek Kibwe Lee Memorial Lounge after you moved out, which I honestly have no fucking clue what to do about now. But never mind that now.
You were supposed to fall asleep watching crappy (or as you called them, “great”) action movies, and I was supposed to walk downstairs the next morning to see you swaddled in one of our too-small blankets while some paid programming starring Chuck Norris blared out the TV set. How you got a restful night with that going the whole time remains a mystery to me.
You were supposed to make me listen to a lot more 90s hip hop, and explain to me about how Bennett was wrong and Joe Budden actually sucks. You were supposed to go to a lot more comedy shows with us. You were supposed to keep making beats, and occasionally make one out of a guitar part I’d written.
You were supposed to come watch football with us on Sundays. You’d listen to me and Bennett yammer on and on, and you’d chime in mostly to make jokes about Joe Buck, which was fine. You wouldn’t know an iota of information about anyone currently in the NFL, but two hours in, you’d inexplicably spout out an incredibly detailed anecdote about Marcus Allen from 25 years ago.
You were supposed to be in my wedding. You were supposed to be in a lot of weddings, probably. You were supposed to be the guy that would steer my bachelor party towards the really cool places, and/or be the guy we had to keep an eye on the entire time.
You were supposed to figure out exactly what was going to make you happy, the way you made everyone around you happy with that enunciated laugh; or the Chappelle’s Show references; or the concise, thoughtful, sometimes brutal but also sometimes hilarious advice you’d give about life; or the waving motion you gave signaling someone to “come ‘ere” for a hug.
We were supposed to do the Estate Department Weekend (EDW) again. Or, at least, we were supposed to talk again about doing it again. Talking about doing EDW2 was almost just as much fun. We probably won’t do that much anymore.
You were supposed to come home in three weeks, or four, but hopefully three. You pinky swore with Jenna that you would come back. That’s the most serious kind of promise there is. She loved you. It's hard not to.
You, Bennett and I were supposed to grow up and grow old, changing yet remaining the same, watching each other’s kids and visiting each other’s families. Your friend Ken wrote about how his friendship with you evolved over the 20 years you knew each other. I’ve known you for 5, and I could only have been so lucky to see how ours would have changed and grown.
There’s a lot of shit that’s supposed to happen in life, and we tend to think it’s supposed to play out based on some cosmic balance. We'd like to think that good people, on balance, have good things happen to them. The details of what exactly happened with you aren’t really clear – and frankly, I don’t want to know them all – but whatever it was, it’s not supposed to happen to good people. It fucking isn’t.
It’s been over a year since you moved out, so the elongated call of “Oooooooh Kibweeeeee!” we’d bellow to beckon you downstairs for a shot, or a game, or some other tomfoolery hasn’t rung out as often, though we’d still yell it from another room when you came to visit. It’s going to be sad knowing that, if we called it out today, you won’t reluctantly traipse downstairs or into the living room to get wrapped up in whatever it was we were doing.
But a lot of people say it’s not a time to curse the end of the time we had together, but to cherish what we did. I’m glad that Bennett, Jenna, my brother and I got to see you a week before your flight. I’m glad we texted you last Wednesday night, and I’m glad you sent us that last picture of you in front of your computer, hard at work, wearing your best effort at Charlie Murphy’s dopey smile on your face (your words, not mine). I’m glad to have five years of memories with you instead of 0, five years of great times, five years of getting through bad times, five years worth of material to get us through the painful moments when we remember you're not coming over again.
I won’t claim to know the way you’ve touched the lives of every single friend, family member, or loved one you had, but if it was half the way you touched me as a friend, I’m sure they feel the same way about you that I do. You're one of my best friends, a gentle soul, and a truly good human being, and I'll miss you terribly. We'll all miss you terribly.
Love ya, buddy.
-Kaz
P.S. I’m still blaming you for any future red wine spills in the fridge.
P.S. I’m still blaming you for any future red wine spills in the fridge.
P.P.S. Jenna wants to talk to you too. You know she doesn't post, but she's making a special exception for you.
On Pinky Promises: A short note to a dear friend
Thank you for your friendship with Bennett and Matt. You "three dudes" had a special bond unlike another. Thank you for your special friendship with me. You were a sweeter, kinder, and gentler "dude" with me, always. You gave the best hugs on the planet, and would stop whatever you were doing as soon as I walked in the door to give me a warm hug.
I will miss coming downstairs and seeing you in your red recliner, making beats on your laptop and watching terrible action movies. Thank you for your friendship, your ice cream truck chasing, terrible cupcake decorating, glowstick earring wearing, late night Rick Ross listening, photobombing while sleeping, silly dance move making, kitty cat loving, box wine drinking...the list goes on an on.
A few weeks ago as you prepared to leave you gave me a big hug, you listened to my rules "be good, be safe, don't forget to come back", and you pinky promised that you would come back in 3-4 weeks. I know that you meant it. You might lie to Bennett and Matt, but you would never lie to me.
Rest in peace my dear, sweet friend. I am so fortunate to have been able to spend the time that we had together.
xoxo