Loss

Loss. We've all felt it. When I was six, my grandfather died (I actually called him Pop pop, beside the point I guess). When I was eight, it was my paternal Grandmother. I lost two cats at the age of 15, rather traumatically (one was injured and one was trapped under a neighbors house). My Gran went when I was 21, though she was old, and it felt more correct than anything else (though I was still quite distraught). At 24, my Aunt abruptly died. I am familiar with the concept of loss. Nothing could have prepared me for these words: "Casey killed himself yesterday." Casey and I were kind of special friends. He and I met by- I kid you not- a dreadlock. We found a dreadlock at one of the common meeting areas at our college, Pratt Institute. We mused over its presence (we were nineteen, and nineteen year olds love to muse about this crap). The thing about Casey, he accepted my attraction to women immediately. I don't know if that's what made our relationship what it was, but I'm glad. He literally was the brother I never had. We would stomp on each other's shadows as a game (really... and this was when we were older), play scary video games together, and enjoyed cats/every other animal in the world. We played Resident Evil: Remake together. If you guys aren't gamers, you won't get this, but it was an experience that bonded us for life. He helped me with every zombie, every puzzle I had trouble with (despite the fact we had to play in the dark, to make it scarier). We emailed somewhat frequently (we real mailed, but I told him that email is more my style. Casey was not impressed). We loved talking about animals, and petting them (our college had a LOT of cats on campus). He had a cat, Peter, who I had expressed interest in meeting. He met my cat, but not my bunny. I still regret this. Casey got my weird desire for "not normal" animals. He kept a pet chicken. We argued quite a bit about what was worthwhile fiction. We used to go to the diner across from school in the morning to help hangovers. He helped me move, multiple times. Casey is the only friend I've ever had that helped me when I was sick. I threw up all night, and Casey brought me vegetarian soup the next day. No one else has done that (except my Mum), not even my best friend. Perhaps, I have strayed from my original point because of nostalgia. Casey WAS my brother. We played games, looked at girls together, talked about our intimate lives. The point is, I'm going to miss him horribly. I'm going to be real here: if I could, I would tell him how stupid this is. That his wife loves him, his family loves him, and I love him.