Well shit, dude.

Sorry for the language, generations of ancestors just recoiled starting with my Mom, but just shit.

When I foot-in-mouth texted (a new thing now) and called you out for “ghosting me,” I imagined several quick-witted, sassy retorts except the one I received. “This is Heather using Rick’s phone. I’m so sorry to tell you this over the phone, but Rick passed away last week.”

I’m not going to lie, my first reaction was, “Seriously?” I had doubts, and then I surfed over to the local paper’s obituaries only to find you there – arms folded across your chest – that hint of your trademark smile. What??

I stared at it again throughout your memorial yesterday – through prayers, and hymns, and readings, and eulogies as we all said goodbye. I wish you’d heard Joshua speak, he spoke so well; you would have been proud. What an incredible young man you raised. Through our tears, we were able to also smile and chuckle as he shared stories conveying exactly what you meant to him in his life. He spoke clearly and bravely and without anything written in front of him as he fought back his own tears. It made me wish he’d been in town for one of our game days. Your kids are amazing. No surprise there.

Beginnings and Endings

I’ve been trying to remember when I first met you and how we became friends, but our friendship just seemed like it always was – always had been – a given without any real beginning. I had to have been 15. It had to have been Geometry or maybe English or any number of classes, but obviously not German because you went with French??? (I’m pausing a moment and doing my very French laugh in my head; it’s pretty good. There are mimes and an accordion playing, and it’s of course in black and white.) I saw you every single day for the three years we went to school there. You were this constant in my life – so smart, so funny, so sweet. I know you hate being called “sweet,” but you were.

In his eulogy, your best friend told a story that when he met you he thought you were a nerd. You’ve said the same about yourself and added your belief that girls didn’t pay attention to you until you hit a growth spurt. I don’t remember that at all. What I do remember is you standing at my locker in the Math hall taking up my books and walking me to my next class. You were cute and hella charming, and I think my memory about you is better than you or your friends; you didn’t have the “girl perspective,” but hey we were all stumbling around – too many hormones – too much self-doubt. In fact, other guys from our class had that same misconception. All of you – just wrong!

But let me just say, I had a pretty big crush on you throughout high school. Who wouldn’t? You carried my books!

Flash forward a bit to our senior year in college. I remember being at your apartment for one of your parties. I can still see you smiling across your living room just having the time of your life.

How did that happen? Did we talk on the phone? I don’t remember at all.

Our lives went their separate ways until we reconnected at Chez Zee’s several years ago. I remember thinking as we said goodbye, “That was lovely, but I’ll never see Rick again.” I think you’re the only person I know who, when they say, “Let’s do something soon,” you actually have a plan to do that something soon and we did.

Jay once said about me, “You can be a little overwhelming when you like someone” and in you, I met my equal. You were this tornado that swept into my life, and suddenly we had movie dates, dinners, board game days, and cheese-tasting events. I tried new restaurants and new foods. Ok, I admit, I’d never had a chalupa before, but in all fairness, there’s no real point to them because there are tacos. Tacos are perfect. See, you take all the stuff that you put on top of a chalupa, and then you fold it thus containing all the goodness and keeping it from flying all over the place. Hear me out – that’s some culinary Tex-Mex magic happening! But I suppose that chalupa at your favorite chalupa place was actually exceptional. I would have it again. I would also curse as all the bits fell all over the place. Among the other new foods I tried because of you – paellas. I give it a solid “Eh”. It was good. I’m glad I had it, but I’m not sure I’d eat it/drink it/slurp it again, but thank you for expanding my world a tiny bit.

You shared your love of all things Star Wars. Holy crap, dude. You built a diorama for your youngest son. That alone should have earned you Dad of the Year; it was so cool – so amazing. I learned at your memorial that this was something you’d done for all the kids. What?!?! How awesome are you?

You shared articles – the latest things you read in the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal. We talked politics. You griefed me about my adoration of Beto and then dragged me to Elizabeth Warren’s headquarters when they opened… in Beto’s old HQ… (hmph) your little victory lap through the place was noted, and you rightfully earned my stinkeye.

You shared your frustrations, your joy, and of course your new girlfriends to get my opinion.

Wherever we went, whatever we did, you always made sure I was one swift kick, elbow bump, or leg tap away so you could telegraph your thoughts about whatever was going on. Ok fine, sometimes the message was “get your face under control,” but in all fairness, that one girlfriend said some surprising things that you didn’t fully acknowledge until you broke up. It was rude to kick me not once but twice at the nice restaurant. We don’t kick friends! We thank them for their thoughtful involuntary yet insightful eyerolls. You’re welcome!

For board game days, I loved that you always came, and despite all of my friends who were there, who genuinely knew me better, you’d sit next to me and it was suddenly us vs. them. We’d sit and snicker over our inside jokes. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t actually developed many. You’d lean in and say something in a low voice, and then we’d transform into this annoying pair of besties/confidantes who’d never lost any time. I’m sure my other friends thought, “What the hell? Who is this guy?”

By the way, I loved that you showed up to one of our games in costume. You were a hit and made quite the impression!

Some Other Things I’ll Miss

• Your love of Halloween – your Jon Snow… nice!
• How you’d get super excited and just go all out with decorations. Move over plants!
• Your love of Goodwill (did she really claim you had a Goodwill spending problem?! In a legal document. WOW! Is that a thing?) and Half Price Books.
• Your love of board games and how you did your best to help one game store stay in business during Covid.
  • You were always fun to play against and let me point out again that I beat you in Dracula. Probably because I’m awesome! And I didn’t need to watch the videos or read the rulebooks. That’s just skill, baby! BOOM! (Or “luck.” Whatever.)
• Your passion for law
• Your humor (even when it was childish and I wanted to punch you)
• Your contagious excitement about things.
• Your swagger. Rick, this is going to come as no surprise, but you’re cocky as hell.
• Your equal passion for politics. (I’ve told you this more than once because of your interest and involvement in politics, you should have run for office. I know the reasons you didn’t, and damn, we all lost out.)
• Your “c’mon now” which always encouraged me to push just a little harder and it always worked.
• The fact you caught a rattlesnake (what?!?!), had it stuffed (what?!?!?), and now someone is inheriting it (*gulp*). Who goes out and just catches a rattlesnake for funsies?
• Your love of the beach, and your “away” office in Port A.
• This goofy little sign for my desk that you gave me that reads, “We’ll always be best friends because you know too much!” (So did you, thanks for taking that stuff to the grave. You did, didn’t you?)
• That dopey Gerard Butler stand-up. (Hey! I stand by my love of Gerard; he looks amazing in a suit!)
• How you’re always game for anything, and …
• Your unconditional love of your amazing kids, and how truly amazing they actually are.

Ern’s Dream

Ern woke up from an intense dream where the two of you were talking. It’s not mine to repeat here, but he called to say, “…and in the dream, I told Rick you thought he was dead, and he told me to tell you he’s ok.” I cried.

The Road Goes On Forever

I don’t know what happened to you; it’s not mine to know. You’d stopped responding to texts; it was weird. I could always lure you out and then I couldn’t. My feelings were hurt, and I was really mad at you for a while. Then this past week I was told you’d been sick for a long time and had spent the last month in the hospital before passing away. There are some hints as to what happened out there, and my friend, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for me and for your friends and family. You were loved and you will be missed.

Love you, miss you, my friend!