Carry on.

Tribute to a friend

Of all the things that I truly regret is not keeping in touch with my cousin.

Growing up, my cousin was like the older brother that I never had.  He always knew how to make me laugh, usually in a clever sort of way. You know how it is… we’d trade jokes, one after another, each successive quip becoming more disgusting than the last. I’d spend entire summers at his house. Whenever we’d go to Calgary, we would stay at his place, playing computer games on the Apple II+ (or Megaz II+) well into the night. (Wizardry or Rings of Zilfin anyone?) I couldn’t think of anyone else to be my best man at my wedding.

I love this man. He always had the listening ear, the kind and calm demeanor, the humility and quiet dignity that I never seemed to develop.

Then, life started changing at warp speed. I got married, went to school full time… pretty soon, there wasn’t much time to talk to anyone. Or to put it more accurately, I didn’t make time to talk to anyone anymore. Time creeps on you and you realize that you haven’t talked to the ones that you love and care about in more than ten years. I didn’t go out thinking, “I don’t want to talk to anyone anymore.” It just happened.

And now, he’s distant. He has moved on with his life, as we all do. With school over, I’ve tried a few times to call him or email him over the past year or two… with mixed results. I can’t help but feel that I had lost a truly great opportunity to be his friend. I truly hope that he doesn’t harbour any ill feelings towards me. I still love him. I still consider him as my brother. And I choose to only remember the wonderful times that we’ve had.

He’s become quite the traveller as of late… going to places that I long to visit. Hee hee… we had this bet when we were four that whoever went on a plane first would get a toy from the other. Heh… he’s logged more miles on a plane than I have and has been to more locales. Perhaps I could satisfy my wanderlust through the pictures on his facebook account.

Take care, Sir Pip, Sticky Fingers, Mr. Haikidiki. Please keep in touch. You are loved and fondly remembered here on this side of the Rockies.

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