Preparing For the Funeral

Everything has kind of been a blur since the weekend.  I feel like I've been fairly composed for the most part, but then I'm also separated from everyone in Regina right now.  I have a feeling that things will be different when I see everyone.

If you're just joining the conversation, I wrote about the loss of my close friend Dave and what I remember most about him here.

Dave's funeral is taking place this Friday in Kindersley, SK which is about 3 hours away for me.  It's his hometown, and it makes sense to have it there.  Wendy, Dave's girlfriend, asked me if I'd like to be a pallbearer and I said I'd be honored.  It still seems so crazy to think about.  It's such a foreign situation to be in when you're dealing with someone who you knew so well.

The one bright spot in all of this is that I'll finally get to meet their baby, Darwin.  As I had mentioned in my previous post, the last time I saw Dave and Wendy was in August just days before Darwin was born.  He was already overdue and there was an expectation that they'd already be settled with the baby by the time I visited Regina for a wedding I was going to.  I obviously wish the circumstances for our first meeting were different, but here we are.

Everything has felt so symbolic over the last few days.  The leaves have just started to turn, my iPod keeps shuffling songs that remind me of Dave, and it was this very week just one year ago that we returned from our cross country drive.  It's still so surreal.

My week has otherwise just been a mix of getting work in order, buying myself a new suit (one piece at every store it seems like) and responding and talking to a lot of family and friends.  I want to thank everyone who has called, emailed, and left me messages.  Times like these are not only about the person we lost, but about the people we have around us for support.  It really means a lot, and I'm fortunate to have people around me who care.

Now there's just one final detail I need to finish editing for Dave . . . 

Remembering Dave

Some of the greatest tests we're up against are the ones that we can't prepare for, that we don't see coming, and that make us confront our own worst fears. 

Dave's girlfriend Wendy called me on Saturday night.  She was crying, and with the kind of news that knocks both the wind and sense out of you, she told me that one of my best friends, Dave, had passed away suddenly that afternoon from health related complications.  

He was a friend that I had grown up with through film school, who I had worked on numerous film projects with, who I drove cross country to California with twice, and who I considered one of my closest allies.  He was many things to me and those who knew him, but in an instant it felt like they all disappeared under the weight of that call.

Going for a drink with Dave in Las Vegas in 2010.

There's never the right words for situations like these, not that I've ever been through anything like this before. Between my own numbness and shock, I'm only further saddened by the cruel and poetic twist that over the last year Dave had found the love of his life in Wendy, and just weeks ago welcomed a new baby boy, Darwin, into their lives.  He had never been happier.  It seemed that after 27 years of striving for this very life, he finally got it, and then left us before he even got a chance to settle in.

Dave, Wendy, and their new born son, Darwin.

I met Dave on my very first day of film school in 2002 at orientation.  He was a character to say the least.  Awkward and a bit clumsy, he had a passive aggressive temperament that always made being around him hilarious and eventful.  He was witty and smart.  In those early years what he occasionally lacked in self assurance he made up for with biting criticisms and commentary about how he felt the deck was always stacked against him.  As we grew older, it was this very thing that made him so unique and interesting and helped him find his own voice and style. 

There was no one quite like Dave.

One of the old hangouts at Sparky's in Regina, SK in 2009.

A reunion of the first year film crew in 2009.

Dave and I rocking some Michael Jackson during karaoke at Sparky's.

It was towards the end of my film school career in 2007 and 2008 that I feel like our friendship became more meaningful and deeply ingrained.  Tyler, Rowan, Dave, and I became a more tight knit group.  We would hang out and discuss film ideas, aspirations, relationships, and where we were going.  These conversations would inevitably become philosophical, often motivated by Dave's curiosity about something going on in his own life.  He was always an open book, and for better or worse he wanted people to know how he really felt. He admired honesty as much as he gave it. 

He was always one of my favorite people to talk to simply because he had an opinion on everything.  He always seemed fascinated by how someone else did something compared to how he would have done it. In the context of film production, this provided countless hours of creative brainstorming and constructive conflict. His scripts, blogs, lengthy emails, and songs were the proof that this formula inspired results. 

High fives after Dave got his new condo.

On the ferry to Alcatraz Island in 2010.

On a return visit we went out to the Regina city sign to recreate a moment we all shared a few days before I moved away from the city.

By 2009, with university behind us and our new struggles with adulthood more apparent than ever, Dave and I discussed the idea of a road trip to Indio, California where his parents had just bought a vacation home.  We didn't know it at the time, but the trip would end up providing some of the most genuine and thought provoking moments of our entire friendship.  From mountains to deserts, the discussions we had were as varied as the scenes that complimented them.

Driving through Joshua Tree in California.

At the Cabazon dinosaurs, a site we admired because of its relation to The Wizard starring Fred Savage. Need I say more?

We had never spent so much time one on one together before then, but what came out of that experience was a greater appreciation and understanding of who we both were.  Indio may have been the destination, but it was the feeling that we were both setting out to create and find experiences along the way that made it seem so defining.  We always jokingly referred to the trip as our Sideways.

Our friendship had never been stronger.  So much so, that in 2010 neither of us hesitated when we casually proposed the idea of taking even more time to do the same road trip again, this time driving home up the coast.  Those moments are not only some of the most memorable that I ever had with Dave, but are actually some of the most memorable experiences that I've ever had. Period. 

I can't believe your gone Dave, but I need you to know what a huge part of my life you were.  You brought out the best in me, you encouraged me with your honesty, you made me laugh without trying, and you shared in some of the most defining moments of my twenties.  I'm never going to know another person quite like you, and I can't begin to express how much that hurts after all we've been through.

Chillin' on the deck of the Queen Mary in Long Beach.

Our Christmas gift exchange in 2007.

Dave taking some time to daydream as we explored the Salton Sea.

When I saw you for what would be the last time in August, just days before Darwin was born, the last thing you said to me was how excited you were for all of us to get to be a part of his life.  It seems that statement means more now than you could have imagined.  I'll do my part to tell Darwin all about you and let him know how great his Dad really was.  We all will. 

I miss you, man.  I'll never forget you.
    


Here's one of the videos I made after we got back from our 2009 road trip.  The tone seems even more appropriate now.

Where Were You On September 11th?

Like most everyone else, I played witness to September 11th on the television and the radio that day in 2001.  It might as well have been any other day, but with chaos unfolding over every media outlet and no clear understanding of why it was happening, I think everyone felt paralyzed.   

I was 17 years old at the time and when my radio alarm went off that morning things were already underway in New York.  The tone in the announcers voice was still casual, but it was a big story that a plane had crashed into the WTC.  I remember going to the TV as soon as I heard that because I was sure there would be pictures.  In my mind I was picturing the tower to look like it did in Independence Day after the attack - I had no idea by the end of the day both towers wouldn't even be there.

I ran upstairs where my parents were in the kitchen preparing their breakfasts.  I asked them if they'd heard about a plane hitting one of the towers.  They hadn't.  I clicked on the TV and we watched as a second plane hit.  I don't remember getting ready that morning.  I remember sitting in front of the TV with my family and throwing a tape into the VCR just before I had to leave to capture things as they were unfolding.

Being in high school made the event resonate that much more.  Everyone had an opinion, there was lots to discuss, and teachers reminded us that this would be one of those events that we'd remember where we were when it happened.  Every classroom was a buzz with theories, stories from family connections, and tempered shock that this was actually happening. 

I always attribute 9/11 to a major shift in goals, not simply because of the event itself, but because in my own timeline it happened right as I was starting my final year of high school and trying to make plans for college.  The event, retrospectively, divided two distinct periods in my life and the dramatic changes taking place at the time.

The thing that sticks with me the most from September 11, 2001 is that it was school picture day.  All of the class pictures in our yearbook were shot when we were still figuring out what was happening.  I just remember a long line of students shuffling through the gym and the gossip becoming more ridiculous.  The towers had collapsed by this point and the idea of posing and smiling just seemed so ill-timed.

I went to work that evening at Staples.  I worked the customer service desk and the store was eerily quiet all night.  I remember everyone still wanted to talk about what had happened but we didn't have anything new to say.  It was confusing and consuming, and as the weeks rolled on I just remember wanting the conversation to change.  My curiosity finally shifted to escape.  It was such a bizarre time.  It made everyone restless and even a little crazy.  

I've got yearbook pictures to prove it.