I found out yesterday that my old friend, Reed, died last Wednesday. The funeral is today. I was deciding last night if I should go and then I started thinking about Reed and the memories I have. Then it was a no brainer. I don't get to have those times with him anymore. This is the last time. And at age 30, it's scary. I had a friend who died when I was 16 and a former boss when I was 25 and my great grandma when I was 22 and my grandpa when I was 11. But none of those felt completely real though, they were people I was not super close to or was too young to appreciate. But Reed was a for real friend. We went to bars together and talked on the phone together. He was only 35. That's so young. Not very far away from what I am right now. Is this the time that this starts happening? This losing friends thing? You know how you start having to go to a lot of weddings around age 24 and then a lot of baby showers around age 27...is 30 when the funerals start? I hope not. Another old friend from junior high, Nate Pieratt, died last year. It feels kind of unreal, like they are playing a joke on us. Like later we'll laugh and say, "Haha! Remember that time when you pretended like you were dead and we all thought we'd never see you again but then you really weren't dead and we were so relieved. Yeah, that was pretty funny." I can't quite wrap my head around the reality that it's not going to happen like that.
I met Reed when I very first moved to Salt Lake. He hired me at Red Lobster, actually. He was one of my first friends in SLC. I knew we would get along famously when I borrowed some keys from him to get more bar towels on one of my first days working there. I brought his keys back and held them out and said," So, is this where I keep your keys hostage in return for sexual favors?" Reed laughed and said, "We are going to be friends. You are a bitch after my own heart." And it was true! We had the best time whenever we got to work together. He was my boss so technically he wasn't allowed to be my friend, too. But it didn't matter. He would meet us at Bongo for drinks after work, after waiting until we were gone and then going a different direction. We would drink wine and play Ticket to Ride at Ryan's house. I remember drinking so much wine one night that neither of us could drive home so all three of us crammed into Ryan's bed and spent the night making jokes about how interesting it was that a straight girl and two gay guys were sharing a bed. I vividly remember a 2 am phone call. "M, wake up, come out with us. We have whiskey. You're coming." "I'm in bed, you silly. In my pajamas, in bed, asleep, have been for a while." "Nope, you're getting out of bed, putting on hot clothes and coming out with us. Right now. See you in half an hour." Click. And I was there in half an hour. I still have no idea how he did it. I do not rouse from comfortable sleep easily.
Reed and I have not hung out for a few years. Life got in the way, I guess. I know Reed has had some hard times recently. No need for details. I'm not even sure of them myself. And deep down, I worry that this was not entirely an accident. If that is the case, I hope he is happy now, I hope he found the peace that he was looking for. If it was just a freak accident one cold night, then I hope he is warm now. I hope he is in a happier place. And either way, I hope he knows that we will miss him. I hope he knows that I will always be grateful that I got the chance to spend some time with him and that he brightened my life for a little while. I wish I could have been there more or fixed everything for him but I hope he knows that I feel blessed to have been able to call him friend. Rest in peace, my dear Reed.
