A Friendship's Eulogy.

We were friends. We were better than brothers. We were the living definition of kindred spirits. We were each to the other what we needed in brother or friend. Together, we ran wild through the small world of our youth, wandering nomad princes in a world of stodgy and cloistered businessmen. And strangely, at least in my mind, there was never any doubt, never any question that things would remain in their halcyonic stasis for as long as we lived. It was the unspoken understanding that we would forever stand as friends and brothers against the erosive tides of life and living.1

We lived a shared life, neither one fully defined without the other. All our discoveries were shared; all our losses and victories were dual in nature. He was to me, and I hope I was to him, all the friend I knew or needed. I had expected him to stand as my friend and compatriot on my wedding day, and he expected no less of me. I hoped that one day our children could share the level of kinship we had, the senseless and utterly illogical complete trust of those who shared an unspoken bond. Had he told me he wanted to abandon the bonds of modern society and strike out for the great unknown wilds, like the adventurers of old, I would have had no need to ask where; I would have packed a bag and followed. Had I calmly informed him of my plans to build a tower to the sky with my own calloused hands, he would have dropped his own responsibilities to join me, wholeheartedly.2

Because it was understood, we were brothers in a world of distant cousins. It was understood that our fates and lives bound together with the strongest cable. We both knew, on a deep and uncommon level, that we would walk together the road of life. When one fell, both fell, and when one rose, both rose. Had we shared the bond of blood and ancestry, we could not have been faster friends, or closer brethren.3

And as I stand, almost alone, staring at the steep and treacherous path of my life ahead of me, I feel all the more poignantly the emptiness beside me. As I stare at the stars on sleepless nights, all the more do I realize the vacuum. No more can I discuss theories or theology, politics or the mysteries of the female mind, with my second shadow. My constant and unfailing companion no longer stands beside me; no longer do we face the terrors and joys of life as comrades. And I wonder, sometimes, oftentimes, what sad and troubling series of events led to this point? What tragedy or cataclysm led to the loss of my brother? To what fell foe did he fall, against which bulwark did our friendship crack and shatter?4

How is it that I can now see this person, perhaps the only person I ever truly understood, and now see only a stranger? How is it that one fell and the other did not? These unanswerable considerations stab at me, bearing the bitter poison of loss. I often take for granted the ways we affected each other, the marks we left on each other’s life. The odd shared mannerisms, the strange understandings, the eerily coinciding thoughts and ideas.5

For no two people can stand as brothers and friends without changing each other. And stand we did. We shared our first day at the same college. We shared notes, shared classes, shared knowledge. We learned to drive together, and jointly faced and embraced the freedom of our youth. We read the same exact magazines, in the same exact order. Books, movies, hobbies, we traded them freely. No one of us consumed a thing but the other did the same. 6

They say some twins can finish each other’s sentences. We could do that, more so, we could finish each other’s thoughts and actions. We used to take a phone and call a mutual friend. At random intervals, we would trade the handset and continue to speak as though no change had taken place. We each could mimic and mime the other to peerless perfection. He was there the first time I ever liked, truly liked, a girl, and he was the first one I told. When he worked his first day as an adult, I was there, before, after, and during his day. 7

We were so similarly different, to a point that confounded our families and shocked our other friends. So it is not lightly that I call him my brother, even to this day. I haven’t seen nor talked to him for over a year now. Our parting was unspoken, mutually understood, and happened with total inevitability. I watched as we drifted farther apart, as our wordless and fraternal ties began to fray. But despite our efforts, despite my tear-stained prayers to God, despite our sincere conversations and decisions, our friendship disintegrated with all the unswerving certainty of the changing seasons.8

And in a way, it was a changing of seasons. For what neither of us ever managed to foresee or predict was that like seasons, friendships, even the closest and strongest, cycle, fade, and must yield to the coming change. Summer must surrender its stronghold to fall, just as fall must bow to the winter. Our friendship, our brotherhood, was to some extent doomed from the beginning. It is a fundamental precept of humanity, of life, that all things pass. Pain passes, so then joy and strength must pass as well. As an unpleasant relationship, professional or personal, must some day, some way end and wither, so too must the wonderful, the strengthening relationships. 9

And so did our brotherhood of fellows fall to the endless circle. His life cycled and changed. So did mine. 10

Just not in the same ways.11

He met a girl, or a few. He sowed some wild oats, played his cards loose, and began to live a life of impetuous prodigality. I chose a different path, a solitary turnpike whose tolls I had to pay. Whilst he ran amok, I inched my way forward on whatever small token of strength I had, and pure faith. And it was then, as I inched and crawled, scrabbled and struggled, that I had the most starkly disheartening epiphany of my life so far:12

I had but one shadow. My brother, my comrade, my compatriot, my friend, no longer stood beside me. Sheer terror struck me to stillness. I suddenly realized that if I fell, I fell alone. If I rose, I rose for myself and no one else. But that was not the fear, the trepidation that wracked me. The cold and implacable worry that clutched me was rooted in one realization: if he fell, I wouldn’t be there to fall beside him. And if he rose, I wouldn’t be there to match his ascent. I was surely and certainly alone. But so was he.13

But the path he walked was one as completely foreign to me as surface of the moon. And from my path to his, no bridge nor tunnel reached. In the dark and ignorant night, we had parted ways, and never even known it. 14

And then, in the terror and fear, through the depression and regret, I had to screw my courage to the sticking place, and strike forward, having faith and hope that my distant counterpart would do the same. I had nothing but the groundless faith and expectation that the same northern star that guided me would illuminate a road before him as well.15

And so I trudged. For a time, in desolation and pessimism, as I wondered if I could climb a mountain without a belay. Then, slowly, but with unerring and stolid resolve, the sun again rose before me. And I learned, in the growing yet wan light, to climb on, self-encouraged, driven on by my own determination. And when I stumbled, I did it in solitude. When I crested a peak, I did it in the miraculous silence and marvel of aloneness. But even when I climbed alone, my lips were often laden with prayers for my separate friend. 16

And finally, I found myself on a peak. The highest one this path has meandered to thus far. And as I stand upon it and gaze out upon the world spread before me, a question fills my mind. I wonder if somewhere far below me, a solitary figure is trudging with just one shadow. Or if maybe, just maybe, on some high precipice stands a strong and independent man alone, looking forth as did I. and then as that question percolates, yet another seeps into my mind. For stretched before me are myriad different paths. Some lead to similar places, yet no two paths wend the same way. Some cross rivers, some pass silently and awestruck through grandiose canyons and valleys. A few straggle up to peaks that scratch at the very stars. And I must tread one of these thoroughfares. Do I further compact the beaten ways of many before me? Or do I sojourn along a wilderness game trail, blazing my way into my own personal history? And slowly, like the cautious and careful mixing of the artist’s paints, the two thoughts swirl together. And I wonder, is there a road before me upon which two estranged and wandering men might walk together? Is there a crossroads out there at which a reunion might occur?17

After some time and rumination, only one answer can rise above the chaotic collision of thought and emotion: I don’t know. There’s no way for me two tell if sometime later, I might once again walk in the presence of my second shadow. But this I do know. I will always pray for him. I will always remember him.18

And thus I bid a tearful yet hopeful farewell to the comrade of my youth.19

For aptly did I call you my brother. And proudly did I call you my friend.20