I love you, Man

Today is the 4th anniversary of the loss of my friend Gareth. This post will contain little to no mourning. Which is to say I would trade almost anything to have him back. That train of thought brings no happiness and is a diservice to remembering how fucking amazeballs he was. This is my testament to how much he brought to my life. 

My favourite thing ever was that our minds worked at the same speed and we were both addicted to researching whatever thought popped into our minds. I'd often get mid-day emails on whatever article had caught his attention with talking points. Which makes it sound more staid than it was - it's more so that information is like tinder and the synapses of ones mind, setting up the bonfire. 

He was all about little gestures. We said I love you to each other maybe, 3 times. We showed love a million ways. He spearheaded my first ever camping trip that involved proper gear and no car (except to the base) 
First, it starts with me having some money from a bonus and him telling me what I would buy. Not bossy style - he earnestly (always, earnestly with fingers spread for punctuating important points) just went through the pros and cons of various equipement diligently but I nodded thoughtfully to things I didn't, at that time, care about. I just wanted a experientially vetted list. I then got a how to properly pack your backpack tutorial. I then got a phone call checking if I followed the list/instructions. I then got a visit as there was no trust I was honest in saying I had faithfully followed said instructions. I would like to say, for the record it was properly packed and maybe I DID need a whole roll of toilet paper ("Are you expecting explosive diarhhea?") and a whole entire package of baby wipes ("Again, explosive diarhhea?", "Maybe! You don't know!") What I had blanked out of my mind, until Foxy Fenton reminded me, was that I did not, in fact, carry my backpack 100% of the trek. I may or may not (may) have 2 year old foot stomped, exclaimed No More! in strident tones and put down said backpack 85% into the hike. Gareth calmly picked it up - oh, after he came BACK DOWN to see how we were doing - and carried it to our peak after 3rd lake. He also set up my tent. When I followed him up a glacier and then almost DIED (true story, you can ask the Golden Hawk) he gave me his last hot chocolate. 

Fuck. Was he funny. I have been going through old albums on FB and laughing anew at his Zing!-ers. 
Best Friend and I were on a road trip and stopped off in Calgary to go to a dance party where you wore white to gleam under their blacklights. I caption the photo 'Team on a way to a white party' - his comment below "I thought you guys were warming up to minorities"
Douche. 
Making him laugh was my fav. I really felt like I had crafted a genius response if he laughed out loud. He spent some time in a befuddled state around me. 
What are you saying? 
How come you can't smoke a whole bong but can talk in paragraphs with one breath? *shrug* Who can say?

I spent almost every single day for over a year hanging with him. Watching Inervention (I would read during that show, way too disempowering) critiquing people on Mantracker. Getting an education in his favourite shows (Deadwood, the Wire) and music (Ghostface, Tom Waits) and just talking. About everything. The only time there was dead space was after the clock passed 2am and honestly, I could not be as lucid as he seemed to always be despite enough smoke to choke an elephant. A very high elephant. I made him a shirt with one of his favourite Moby Dick quotes, "Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me." I have it now. And various pieces of MEC clothing to augment the various camping experiences. Like using your thermorest as a magic carpet down the river. WHEEEEEEEEE!!!

Random things he said will pop into my mind at moments where he would have had a comment to make (always a comment to make) and I'll laugh and say you're not wrong aloud. My love for Halloween exponentially grew while we were hanging out discussing ideas. He had great costumes. He was low level addicted to his nieces, we chatted about them all the time. He would show me the books he was crafting on his Mac to send to them. His dog sat with me all the time and we got to be ninja fast at tossing a box of matches at each other depending where Ze dog dropped bombs. Eye watering, gag inducing bombs. Sweet Jesus. That dog's a-hole...I dogress.

We would walk all over the city at night - making plans to clone our respective pets, discussing music as a cultural barometer, him trying low level parkour stunts, me having 911 on stand by. My favourite place in the world is walking in the deep of night over the Georgia Viaduct. I can replay our convos with ease there.

I got a Mac because he praised them evangelically - being a graphic designer/artist - he got the most from Mac's applications/capabilities and was constantly showing me whatever was being created. Admonished himself for spending so much time on projects, getting so much detail in for pictures that would be reduced to 2" sq. So gifted. He bought me a hard drive because I said I would 'tomorrow' for weeks, he partitioned it, explained what I needed to do. Did it for me a few months later since I didn't pay it proper attention. Gave me one of his bikes since that stayed on the 'tomorrow' list for a long ass time as well.

He was the last man standing at every party. One friend and I (lovingly) coined the term 'Garathon' (he didn't like it, I apologized - I'm not THAT offended - mmm-hmmm) referring to the fact that the dude could give an engrossing for sure, hilarious in fact lecture on everything. EV-ery thing, at length. He was a night owl - when the rest of us were snoozy snooze he was looking into everything and wanted to share. He loved sharing. A lot. Could drink more than most and STILL be waxing prosaically on how the media played a role in West coast vs East coast rap. I remember when he stopped drinking beer and asked me on my way over to pick up wine. Which I did! And then when he saw it was red, being a solely white wine imbiber, turned to me and said, " Do you even know me?" Uh, yes. I just didn't know your wine type preference, princess. That being said only to Ze dog. I would take Ze dog with me everywhere and tell him EXACTLY what I thought of something G said. I would get back to his house and he would say or do something thoughtful and I wouldn't remember whatever irritated my brown onion.

We were masters of instinctually knowing each others' field mines and stepping around them.

I'm sure there is a case for the communication that doesn't side step things but gets them dealt with and I'm pro that for sure. But for the space we were in - our love and respect was demonstrated in being careful with one another. We fought like, twice. And the fight being an emotional response to something we weren't fighting about. Typically our fear at his fight with cancer but that same fear muted us from communicating around that. Not that we didn't talk about his treatments, which I went to, his medications, next steps blah, blah, blah but we did our best to keep things some easy going version of 'normal.'

He was an incredible athlete, fearless. Was amazing at Tae kwon do. Took up slack lining because it looked interesting and had an innate sense of balance where others teetered tottered. and fell. Would chat with me while spending incredible lengths of time on a balance board to keep his strength up for one more trip to the mountain. Which he attacked, every time. I have a diagram he drew me on how I should be snowboarding and that he would show me the next time we went. Constantly boxing with the dudes when they were over. It would be funny to be curled up on the couch - no I don't want to box, but thanks - and seem them dancing around like little boys to a David Bowie soundtrack. That was a great punch! something never said by me.

One time we had his air pistol at the Golden Hawk casa and I was like, no - I don't need to fire the gun, thanks but wore down with the 'just try it' on repeat. Got up, took aim at the walnut (R.I.P. Nutty) blew it to smithereens with my first shot. Dead silence. G - I don't know whether to be turned on or frightened.

It was just a lucky shot. As proved by my many misses thereafter. 'You're just not trying now' Honestly, no, I swear I am not hiding my Lara Croft tendencies. 

We invented Onesies. Which is where everyone gets one turn with their iPod to play their song which was really about strategy since you wanted the party to stay strong! but someone's previous pick would derail what you had picked out as they didn't complement each other as well. Fun times, so many fun times. Just doing nothing.


I have been incredibly blessed in how many amazing friendships I have/had. But you were one in a million, Gareth. I love you. And you stink.