I felt a familiar connection to him, like a brother. Sure, I once had a crush on him, but that passed with endearment. He was so beautiful. Wickedly charming, and naturally warm.
"Thanks for coming" he'd tell me when I'd make the drive out to huntsville.
I knew the value of his thanks. That alone, made the sadness I felt leaving him there bearable.
I suppose there is a certain romanticising who he was. He didn't make it passed the age where his actions were unacceptable and lame. Young and rebellious and lost. He died that way.
I've always liked to think that he meant to die, in a drug induced euphoric state perhaps. That at that moment, he was at peace with himself.
Happy birthday Mario.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
No comments:
Post a Comment