Monday 11 June 2012


I lost someone a few days ago. I am compelled to write about him because although I believe such things are private, I also am struggling to digest how one makes sense of mortality, especially with people that are young and so vibrant. I suppose the only way I can make sense of it, is to honor him in the best way that I know how, and that is to write about him. For as irony would have it, it was this individual that set me on the course to truly find my writer’s voice – and I haven’t looked back since (although there were certainly times when I cursed him for introducing me to the crazy world of screenwriting, that's for sure).

It’s hard to encapsulate who this man was, purely because he was like no other person I had ever met. I’ve known him since I was 18, and we met at a time when I was all fire and opinions and was that precarious (and annoying) mix of bravado and insecurity. He of course spotted this right away and challenged me from the word go. In fact, the first few years of knowing one another was one big debate. He enjoyed winding me up over whatever topic struck his fancy, and I took the bait, hook line and sinker. I also liked arguing my corner, whilst knowing I was always going to lose whatever argument we were having.

As far as his personality went, dynamic didn’t cover it. He was irreverent, rebellious, loud mouthed, hysterical, fearless and frighteningly curious. All the things I held dear and admired in another human being. There was nothing he wouldn’t do or say – and trust me; this didn’t always sit well with those around him. He was the guy who challenged authority and didn’t quite understand why everyone else wasn’t either. It was hard not to be in awe - or at least ridiculously amused - by how he lived his life. And trust me, it was far from traditional and never ever dull.

The best part was, within all this (sometimes) craziness, was a heart that ran very deep. He loved his friends. And I realize many say they do, but he made friends for life and you felt that being one of them. For me, over the years, he slipped into the role of the big brother I never had and took that role very seriously. Although saying that, I think he loved and was fatigued by this role in equal measure – because I certainly could be a handful. We had our fair share of hairy experiences that I shall not delve into, but needless to say, I would call him at 3am and say that I think I screwed up and he would be there in flash. Usually not mincing his words in the process (he loved a good curse word just like me), but always with a sly smile letting me know that he could relate all too well to my often reckless spirit. 

Over the years, we moved on with our lives and met people, had children, all the things people do. But funny enough, throughout that whole process we’d always cross paths. For some reason we’d always end up living in the same city even just for a year or so. I think it amused us both to no end when we both calmed down and found the more mundane path in life – although we relished reliving the memories of what came before, I can tell you that much.

I think the hardest part of his passing is that I can’t seem to reconcile that he is not in the world anymore (I know that sounds obvious, and I suppose it is) – or at least this world, cause he is definitely somewhere dancing around like a crazy man. He is just one of those people whose force was so large, that you truly thought he’d live to be 300 years old. And more importantly, I liked knowing that he was out there. I looked forward to the sporadic email teasing me, or giving me sh*t, or turning me on to to his latest passion in film/book or TV. 

It’s an understatement to say that I will miss him. But I know that there is no one else I’d rather have out there somewhere in energy-land (as I call it) watching over us all. So in honor of you LG, from this day forward, I’m going to do my best to LIVE. To really live in that fearless, dynamic, hell-bent and heartfelt way you always did...and in the process I shall climb a mountain somewhere (the hill in my dad's backyard may have to do at the moment) and scream out the loudest curse word I can muster. Something tells me that would amuse you.

Here’s to you my friend. x 

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