A few days ago I found out that my dear friend Patrick passed away on September 9th. He was 51.
Patrick was a kind soul. He was my best friend. He was my brother. He was one of those rare people that you meet in your life that you can really talk to. He was always willing to lend a hand. Always up for a cup of coffee or a beer to shoot the shit. The last time I saw him I had biked over in the middle of winter just for a couple cups of tea and conversation. Circumstances changed and we hadn’t been able to hang out since then. He was finally working again and I had moved to the other side of town and our schedules never meshed up. We kept in touch by text weekly though. Chats about politics, life, work, etc. I’m grateful for one of the last conversations I had with him in August. I wrote to tell him that even though we hadn’t a chance to hang out in a while that I loved him and that he was one of my favorites in my whole life. I’m grateful that I was able to tell him how much he meant to me. I’m sad that we’ll never have the chance to have that mid-morning coffee or afternoon brew on the porch again. I’m going to miss him terribly.