I consider even those of you that I disagree with to be pretty close, and I have been drinking whiskey. So I will say this now.
6 months ago my best friend died. I was buddies with him in high school, and became even closer to him after we started working together, which we did for two years. This fucker was like my brother.
Now, it is 6 months later and things are…different. His girlfriend, who had been very close to us (my group of friends, which is numerous, in the 20-25 range, and close still also) never comes around. We all miss this guy, and we take it in different ways. We all drink alot. I mean alot. I have cut back to about 4 nights a week, sometimes 3, but it is hard. I tried to stop smoking, but that goes to the shitter too.
I found T-Nation in February of this year. I think many times that he would have loved this site, as he was a big fucker, looked liked a bodybuilder but was as strong as a powerlifter. I wonder alot of times if this site would have helped him out in his last few months, as it helps me out now. I wonder what it would have been like, to have a buddy at work who knew this site as well as I did. To comment on the folks that are funny, on the articles. Like I said, he would have loved this site.
I wonder many times now, where does your life go after you lose a guy who was so close to you? He was far bigger and stronger than me, and older not to mention. Like an older brother, in a way. When you are a male and 21, you have the feeling that there is nothing that can hurt you. Nothing can touch you…you can go into a war and come out perfect, you can fight whoever and come out unscathed. Why? Because we are men! We are invincible. We have testosterone. We speed. We swerve. We drive when we are so drunk that there are four lanes on a two lane highway. But we can’t be hurt…we are men.
I don’t know how many of you watch “Rescue Me”, the show on FX. But it is, in effect, a document on how men handle severe stress and loss. I remember sitting there, two months before my 22 year old buddy died, watching the show and saying, “Yes, this is how men deal with it. we drink. We hide. We don’t get help. Why? Because we are MEN!”
And somehow I was proud of this. I remember seeing his girlfriend that night…thanking God we had so much testosterone. If something happened, we would deal with it. LIKE MEN!
Now when I look at his girlfriend, I see a girl with constant tears in her eyes. A girl that has to live with the fact that her love is dead.
We drink so much now, and I think few of us know why. We hide the tears, the frustration, the rage, behind the bottom of a pint glass. We wonder why those of us that die early do so…
We wonder many times if we will see him again.
I don’t really know why I wrote this. The odds are on that my subconcious has many things to let out, and you folks are the only people I trust with it. But what do you do when an athlete dies young? When you carry the casket of the man who saved you in thousand fights, who dragged you from a thousand troubles? Half of me thinks I just need to get this shit off my chest, and into a public forum. Another part thinks I am a pussy for dealing with this as badly as I have. The last part wishes it was never here at all, and my brother could be here, reading all the shit I say, and arguing with me in the politics section, because that bastard was a Republican! Any responses welcome…