Brad and I spent the evening toasting his memory and looking at old pictures. Pictures that captured moments spent living life with a man who had become more than a friend, who had become our brother and will always be our brother.
Three years gone now, and still it's rare for more than a couple of days to pass when something doesn't remind me of him; his mannerisms, his combination of a devil-may-care attitude with a wise-beyond-his years sense of responsibility. He was a character and a crack-up, a man who loved his family and a man who valued his independence.
Over the course of the past year there were many times when I thought of John. Times when I would think, "I wonder what John would think of this shittery," or I would say, "Man, that is John-level tomfoolery."
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever forget about him, and when I think those thoughts I always immediately answer myself with, "No, won't happen. John wasn't a visitor to my life, he was a permanent resident. Permanent."
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