We've kept in touch, off and on, for 18 years. That's a long time to know someone. I called him D., or Bud, or Dude. He called me Rox, or Babe, or Kid. We had a long history, me and D. We competed against each other in an Othello tournament in 1993, and he's one of the few people who could beat me at that game. We've been buds ever since.
D. was charming and funny and smart, and year after year, he has always made me smile. He loved his Broncos, and the Avalanche... all Denver sports, actually. He was thrilled whenever the Broncos would play my team, the Bills... the teasing seemed endless. He loved his cheerleaders and his lady friends, too... he was a true flirt at heart.
D. was a friend to me through-and-through. He always checked up on me at big milestones and remembered my birthday. He often talked about wanting to visit Broadway and see a few shows, but he never was able to make it to the east coast. Visiting D. has ALWAYS been tops on my wish list of things to do in my life, but I never found a primary reason to go to Colorado Springs. Somehow, I had convinced myself that I could only visit him once I had some other reason to be near Denver.
No matter what, D. was a rock for me. We often had long talks late at night over the past 18 years. Whether on TSN, INN, e-mail, IM, Google Chat, Facebook... we always found a way. We talked about computers, and technology, and our jobs. We talked about family, and friends, and good times. He patiently listened to my selfish whining about life's little problems, and was always there for either a supportive word, or a wisecrack to set me straight. Rarely did he tell me about any of his own issues. Once in a while he would make a comment about his wheelchair, but usually just to let me know about its cool new features.
D. had osteogenesis imperfecta (brittle bone disease). He was a dwarf, I don't think even three feet tall. He never walked a day in the 48+ years of his life. Even so, he never complained, was ever in good spirits, held his head high, and always reminded me of what was important. When he passed away last Friday, I learned that D. was unquestionably the exact same rock for so many others, as evidenced by the unending tributes on his Facebook page. He was a role model, an inspiration, a teaser, a friend.
There are many lessons be learned from my selfless buddy D. Don't sweat the meaningless things - the small stuff. Laugh at yourself. Life's too short not to enjoy it. Take hold of your life, hold your head high, and do what makes you happy while you have the chance.
I'll miss the best friend I never met.
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