A is for Adrian

     I have tried to write this post several times this week, for some reason the words never sound right. So instead I will just tell the story, my story about a friend. Not just any friend, but someone who I hold close to my heart and I know I'm not the only one. For those of you who have been reading my blog from the beginning you know him too. He is an A in many of my stories. He was an avid reader of my blog, often commenting on my ridiculous stories and random musings.

     I awoke especially early Monday morning, groggy and half alive to a blaring alarm. I set the alarm the night before in hopes to catch A online before his Monday was over. As I rolled over to shut the alarm on my phone off I saw I had a message. Bleary eyed I squinted to make out the message. It was from C...it read: A is dead.

     A is for Adrian. Adrian, this is my letter to you...




Dear Adrian,

When I first heard of the tragedy that took your life I went into some sort of trance. The next thing I knew I was climbing a mountain in the Front Range, thinking of our epic hike to the top of the tallest jungle slope outside of Kuching. Although I am still angry, morose, and filled with a heavy heart, I can't help but smile. I smile because I know you made me a better person. Smile because I know that your heart was too big for this world so God took it. Smile thinking about all of the unforgettable memories we've had.

I can still hear you laugh...like that time you couldn't control yourself when my nose was bleeding from running into that glass wall. I was laughing too and between fits of laughter you managed to ask if I needed to be taken to a doctor. "NO!" I proclaimed, as if the act was some type of proof of being a badass. Then we just continued to laugh at my drunken clumsiness.

Or how we climbed up that mountain, totally underestimating how hard carrying water for three people in the jungle was going to be. Taking turns carrying bottles of water tied off between my sweat pants around our necks.

I remember the time you introduced me to all of your amazing friends. We had some "cultural exchange" playing drinking games and drinking taqui-(the 'la' is always silent).

I remember how excited I was to see you again, in Kuching. When you arrived I remember how it felt to see you again, as if no time had passed. We sat lounging on rattan mats on a rooftop bar, exchanging childhood stories. Sipping tuak from empty beer cans, scribbling nonsense on the jungle hardwood table.

It's not just the large tales, but the small moments that I remember most fondly.

Nothing beats sitting in the mamak stall by your house with the yellow walls and the angry fans humming on the wall while we eat tandori, satay, and maggie goreng talking about nothing in particular. Vaguely paying attention to whatever football match is on the tele.


I remember eating peanuts and drinking 100 Plus (or 100 Pizz as MB calls it) staring out into the South China Sea watching the tide roll in.

I can still hear you proclaim "That's so awesommmee!" when a new sweet tune would come on the radio.

Or the (countless) times you and MB would gang up on me for being tired, threatening to drag me to the cat museum if I didn't finish my beer.

Even when we were oceans apart, we would keep in touch by sending each other ridiculous commercials, music, or sharing MB's recent dirty twist on a cheesy top 40 hit.

Adrian, even though you are gone and I only knew you a few short years, I know you are always with us. For you I will stand a little taller, laugh a little louder, smile a little bigger, take that extra sip, dance to that one last song because I know you are up there in the heavens watching over all of your friends and family, encouraging them to be the best they can be and truly live every moment.

I will never forget you

-M

     I have tried to write this post several times this week, for some reason the words never sound right. So instead I will just tell the story, my story about a friend. Not just any friend, but someone who I hold close to my heart and I know I'm not the only one. For those of you who have been reading my blog from the beginning you know him too. He is an A in many of my stories. He was an avid reader of my blog, often commenting on my ridiculous stories and random musings.

     I awoke especially early Monday morning, groggy and half alive to a blaring alarm. I set the alarm the night before in hopes to catch A online before his Monday was over. As I rolled over to shut the alarm on my phone off I saw I had a message. Bleary eyed I squinted to make out the message. It was from C...it read: A is dead.

     A is for Adrian. Adrian, this is my letter to you...




Dear Adrian,

When I first heard of the tragedy that took your life I went into some sort of trance. The next thing I knew I was climbing a mountain in the Front Range, thinking of our epic hike to the top of the tallest jungle slope outside of Kuching. Although I am still angry, morose, and filled with a heavy heart, I can't help but smile. I smile because I know you made me a better person. Smile because I know that your heart was too big for this world so God took it. Smile thinking about all of the unforgettable memories we've had.

I can still hear you laugh...like that time you couldn't control yourself when my nose was bleeding from running into that glass wall. I was laughing too and between fits of laughter you managed to ask if I needed to be taken to a doctor. "NO!" I proclaimed, as if the act was some type of proof of being a badass. Then we just continued to laugh at my drunken clumsiness.

Or how we climbed up that mountain, totally underestimating how hard carrying water for three people in the jungle was going to be. Taking turns carrying bottles of water tied off between my sweat pants around our necks.

I remember the time you introduced me to all of your amazing friends. We had some "cultural exchange" playing drinking games and drinking taqui-(the 'la' is always silent).

I remember how excited I was to see you again, in Kuching. When you arrived I remember how it felt to see you again, as if no time had passed. We sat lounging on rattan mats on a rooftop bar, exchanging childhood stories. Sipping tuak from empty beer cans, scribbling nonsense on the jungle hardwood table.

It's not just the large tales, but the small moments that I remember most fondly.

Nothing beats sitting in the mamak stall by your house with the yellow walls and the angry fans humming on the wall while we eat tandori, satay, and maggie goreng talking about nothing in particular. Vaguely paying attention to whatever football match is on the tele.


I remember eating peanuts and drinking 100 Plus (or 100 Pizz as MB calls it) staring out into the South China Sea watching the tide roll in.

I can still hear you proclaim "That's so awesommmee!" when a new sweet tune would come on the radio.

Or the (countless) times you and MB would gang up on me for being tired, threatening to drag me to the cat museum if I didn't finish my beer.

Even when we were oceans apart, we would keep in touch by sending each other ridiculous commercials, music, or sharing MB's recent dirty twist on a cheesy top 40 hit.

Adrian, even though you are gone and I only knew you a few short years, I know you are always with us. For you I will stand a little taller, laugh a little louder, smile a little bigger, take that extra sip, dance to that one last song because I know you are up there in the heavens watching over all of your friends and family, encouraging them to be the best they can be and truly live every moment.

I will never forget you

-M

     I have tried to write this post several times this week, for some reason the words never sound right. So instead I will just tell the story, my story about a friend. Not just any friend, but someone who I hold close to my heart and I know I'm not the only one. For those of you who have been reading my blog from the beginning you know him too. He is an A in many of my stories. He was an avid reader of my blog, often commenting on my ridiculous stories and random musings.

     I awoke especially early Monday morning, groggy and half alive to a blaring alarm. I set the alarm the night before in hopes to catch A online before his Monday was over. As I rolled over to shut the alarm on my phone off I saw I had a message. Bleary eyed I squinted to make out the message. It was from C...it read: A is dead.

     A is for Adrian. Adrian, this is my letter to you...




Dear Adrian,

When I first heard of the tragedy that took your life I went into some sort of trance. The next thing I knew I was climbing a mountain in the Front Range, thinking of our epic hike to the top of the tallest jungle slope outside of Kuching. Although I am still angry, morose, and filled with a heavy heart, I can't help but smile. I smile because I know you made me a better person. Smile because I know that your heart was too big for this world so God took it. Smile thinking about all of the unforgettable memories we've had.

I can still hear you laugh...like that time you couldn't control yourself when my nose was bleeding from running into that glass wall. I was laughing too and between fits of laughter you managed to ask if I needed to be taken to a doctor. "NO!" I proclaimed, as if the act was some type of proof of being a badass. Then we just continued to laugh at my drunken clumsiness.

Or how we climbed up that mountain, totally underestimating how hard carrying water for three people in the jungle was going to be. Taking turns carrying bottles of water tied off between my sweat pants around our necks.

I remember the time you introduced me to all of your amazing friends. We had some "cultural exchange" playing drinking games and drinking taqui-(the 'la' is always silent).

I remember how excited I was to see you again, in Kuching. When you arrived I remember how it felt to see you again, as if no time had passed. We sat lounging on rattan mats on a rooftop bar, exchanging childhood stories. Sipping tuak from empty beer cans, scribbling nonsense on the jungle hardwood table.

It's not just the large tales, but the small moments that I remember most fondly.

Nothing beats sitting in the mamak stall by your house with the yellow walls and the angry fans humming on the wall while we eat tandori, satay, and maggie goreng talking about nothing in particular. Vaguely paying attention to whatever football match is on the tele.


I remember eating peanuts and drinking 100 Plus (or 100 Pizz as MB calls it) staring out into the South China Sea watching the tide roll in.

I can still hear you proclaim "That's so awesommmee!" when a new sweet tune would come on the radio.

Or the (countless) times you and MB would gang up on me for being tired, threatening to drag me to the cat museum if I didn't finish my beer.

Even when we were oceans apart, we would keep in touch by sending each other ridiculous commercials, music, or sharing MB's recent dirty twist on a cheesy top 40 hit.

Adrian, even though you are gone and I only knew you a few short years, I know you are always with us. For you I will stand a little taller, laugh a little louder, smile a little bigger, take that extra sip, dance to that one last song because I know you are up there in the heavens watching over all of your friends and family, encouraging them to be the best they can be and truly live every moment.

I will never forget you

-M

     I have tried to write this post several times this week, for some reason the words never sound right. So instead I will just tell the story, my story about a friend. Not just any friend, but someone who I hold close to my heart and I know I'm not the only one. For those of you who have been reading my blog from the beginning you know him too. He is an A in many of my stories. He was an avid reader of my blog, often commenting on my ridiculous stories and random musings.

     I awoke especially early Monday morning, groggy and half alive to a blaring alarm. I set the alarm the night before in hopes to catch A online before his Monday was over. As I rolled over to shut the alarm on my phone off I saw I had a message. Bleary eyed I squinted to make out the message. It was from C...it read: A is dead.

     A is for Adrian. Adrian, this is my letter to you...




Dear Adrian,

When I first heard of the tragedy that took your life I went into some sort of trance. The next thing I knew I was climbing a mountain in the Front Range, thinking of our epic hike to the top of the tallest jungle slope outside of Kuching. Although I am still angry, morose, and filled with a heavy heart, I can't help but smile. I smile because I know you made me a better person. Smile because I know that your heart was too big for this world so God took it. Smile thinking about all of the unforgettable memories we've had.

I can still hear you laugh...like that time you couldn't control yourself when my nose was bleeding from running into that glass wall. I was laughing too and between fits of laughter you managed to ask if I needed to be taken to a doctor. "NO!" I proclaimed, as if the act was some type of proof of being a badass. Then we just continued to laugh at my drunken clumsiness.

Or how we climbed up that mountain, totally underestimating how hard carrying water for three people in the jungle was going to be. Taking turns carrying bottles of water tied off between my sweat pants around our necks.

I remember the time you introduced me to all of your amazing friends. We had some "cultural exchange" playing drinking games and drinking taqui-(the 'la' is always silent).

I remember how excited I was to see you again, in Kuching. When you arrived I remember how it felt to see you again, as if no time had passed. We sat lounging on rattan mats on a rooftop bar, exchanging childhood stories. Sipping tuak from empty beer cans, scribbling nonsense on the jungle hardwood table.

It's not just the large tales, but the small moments that I remember most fondly.

Nothing beats sitting in the mamak stall by your house with the yellow walls and the angry fans humming on the wall while we eat tandori, satay, and maggie goreng talking about nothing in particular. Vaguely paying attention to whatever football match is on the tele.


I remember eating peanuts and drinking 100 Plus (or 100 Pizz as MB calls it) staring out into the South China Sea watching the tide roll in.

I can still hear you proclaim "That's so awesommmee!" when a new sweet tune would come on the radio.

Or the (countless) times you and MB would gang up on me for being tired, threatening to drag me to the cat museum if I didn't finish my beer.

Even when we were oceans apart, we would keep in touch by sending each other ridiculous commercials, music, or sharing MB's recent dirty twist on a cheesy top 40 hit.

Adrian, even though you are gone and I only knew you a few short years, I know you are always with us. For you I will stand a little taller, laugh a little louder, smile a little bigger, take that extra sip, dance to that one last song because I know you are up there in the heavens watching over all of your friends and family, encouraging them to be the best they can be and truly live every moment.

I will never forget you

-M