Pouring One Out
- 9 hours ago
- 2 min read
I recently lost a friend. Snatched from this life suddenly, unexpectedly, tragically. His life ended as suddenly as a candle being blown out.
He was, by far, the bravest man I knew. He put his all into everything. When he served, he was accepted into one of the most elite special forces units on the planet. At work, he always put the most effort in. His standards were always higher than everyone else's, and he achieved them. He enabled others around him to achieve their best. Guiding them, pushing them, to get better for themselves. He always put his family first. He was fiercely protective and amazingly nurturing. We had a lot in common; similar approaches, attitudes, and philosophies on life, same military-grade sense of humor, hell we even have the same birthday! It’s an honor to be able to call him my friend.
Sadness. Grief. Regret. Joy. Honor.
These are the emotions I’m feeling. I’m sad he’s gone. I’m sad for his children who will never be able to share their lives with him. I regret drifting apart from him in the past few years, squandering time with him, in the complacent belief that there’s always tomorrow. But, when I look back on the times we had together, the conversations, the shared moments, and above all, the laughter, I’m filled with happiness. For a time, we got to walk along the same path, side-by-side.
I’m pouring two shots of my favorite whiskey; the one I save for special occasions.
‘Here’s to you, my friend. You’ve done your time, you’ve served with honor and strength. You’ve earned your place in the great halls of Valhalla. Now is your time to rest. Thank you for all you’ve done; the times you’ve helped, the moments we shared. I will never forget you. I hope you find the peace you deserve. This is for you bud.’
I down one shot. Crouching, I carefully pour the other shot onto the ground. Giving it to the Spirits, in the time honored tradition of pouring one out for the one I’ve lost.
I hate the trite comments of ‘they passed away,’ ‘it’s what they would have wanted,’ ‘they had a good run.’ It’s all a bullshit attempt at trying to romanticize death, to soften it for ourselves. No. Death is tragic, especially in situations like this. There’s no way to deal with it other than with a dichotomy of mixed emotions. I will always remember him; my brother from another mother.
This track is fitting for how we were together, both professionally and personally. At ease my friend.
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