grief

[rone]

My friend Harley Davidson took his own life last Thursday evening. I found out on Saturday morning, when my wife ran up our stairs in tears. Harley was a man with a bleak outlook of things, and was a kindred spirit during my bitter, cynical years (yes, i know some of you are quietly stunned because you thought that THESE are my bitter, cynical years... no, this is the kinder, gentler rone, believe it). But he was fiercely loyal (clichéd, but literally true), and definitely had tenderness and love within him (he had an array of exotic, very cute pets such as a chinchilla, a hedgehog, and a pair of sugar gliders). He was my confidant. He was one of my groomsmen, and therefore wore a tuxedo, which meant the world to me. I was going to call the little bastard last week so we could hook up for lunch, as it'd been more than a few months since i'd seen him... but it slipped my mind. Well, fuck.

I'd've said something here sooner, but the truth is that i was...well, not exactly numb, but i didn't really feel much. A touch of sadness, a bit of disappointment, a pinch of annoyance. We held his wake tonight at our house and i saw people i hadn't seen in a long time. I also met Harley's mom and sister, and their emotion was palpable. I came back to my computer and sobbed quietly for a minute... didn't even cry much. I got teary as the evening progressed and we reminisced. Now things have wound down and the house is empty again. And i miss the little fucker because of how we'd get together and talk and talk and vent and talk more.