Balls to the fucking wall.

It isn’t how most people live their lives. For most, life happens in slow motion, and before they realize there is a chance for them to be excited or risky or, well, happy, the opportunity has passed them by.

As I sit here teary-eyed and melancholy, I thought about writing about the tragedy of life and how it crushes us all. Who can deny the seemingly evil twists and turns our journey takes us through? We stumble along, fumbling through darkness, and just when we think we’ve found another hand to hold and heart to join us in the adventure, the hand and heart are suddenly and erratically seized from us and we are left with a void that will rest with us forever.

Life is a tragedy. It proves so when it ends.

Let me tell you about my friend Brad. B-Rad. Balls-to-the-wall Dugan, as I remember him. This kid never missed that opportunity to make life fun or interesting. He rode motorcycles and ATVs, drank and smoked too much, did crazy things that he couldn’t remember in the morning. He was funny and fun and upon meeting him one could immediately establish a camaraderie because Brad just let you in. Brad was kind and encouraging. He had a hoard of best friends, a million girlfriends, and enough reptiles to make a girl scream.

We all think we are invincible when we are young. I kind of thought Brad actually was invincible. He was never afraid, neither of a person nor of an activity, and in the morning there would always be a story to tell. But Brad wasn’t and none of us are, and remembering that shakes us all to our core.

There are two lessons here. The first, of course, just sneaks in to any tragedy, and it is to always let someone know how much they mean to you. If you’re going to have to shed tears and think “I just saw him yesterday, and now he’s gone,” may that last encounter with your friend always reflect your appreciation. The second lesson is to live. Only the good die young, they say, but they say that because it’s only the young that really live. It may have caught up with him in a bitter end, but Brad was out there living, doing his thing, every single day. There wasn’t a cost-benefit analysis with Brad – he just did it. There’s something to be said for that.

So, my dear Brad, with your many vices and your mischievous smile, may you rest in peace. We miss you.