B-Ry,
Congrats my man! You were born 30 years ago today, and what a journey you've had!
- You went from lackluster student to the 1st doctor in the family. One of my proudest moments was easily watching you cross that stage to dawn your white uniform.
- You came back from a near death accident and being unashamedly "fat" in your own words to being an Ironman athlete. What a pro.
- You went from belching at disturbing decibels to a Romeo. You even met a girl and proposed to her all after I began dating Tina and before I even proposed... way to make me look bad.
- You went from basically never having left Texas to giddily Tokyo drifting internationally. On a moped of all things.
- You went from fellow golf amateur hitting Happy Gilmore shots to a scratch golfer. Again, well done making me look like a scrub.
- You went from saxophone loving, Street Fighter obsessed nerd to... well, nothing changed here.
- You made the wise decision of selecting me as your Best Man because you knew I would've crushed it. Good choice.
- You went from hating reading and speeches to giving one of the most beautiful off-the-cuff ones at Neal's wedding. I still can't help but smile from ear to ear when I recall that moment.
- You went from goofy kid to responsible, doting uncle. Still weird for me to imagine.
All while impacting so many lives from patients healed, friends you went out of your way to keep in touch with, and others you inspired...
Congrats again my friend! The big 3-0! We've almost been friends for 20 years! That's 2/3 of our lives!
Shame we're just a bit shy of it. We almost made it.
Even now, 6 months later, I find myself falling into old habits trying to get a hold of you - nearly texting you an inside joke, randomly dropping a call just cause it's been a while, opening Snapchat to see if my one friend still on it sent me another message that would have me busting from the gut...
I really miss you man.
When you left, not going to lie, it really left me "shook." You think I'd be better the 2nd time around, but I'll be honest. I cried more that day when I heard the news than every day since my mom passed combined.
It was legit ugly.
Reflecting on it nowadays, I sometimes wonder how your loss could have hurt so much. If you brood on it, it's kind of strange that despite suffering no physical injury we can still feel that much pain. But...
- You left so soon and suddenly. Not that a protracted illness is preferable (especially given how unfair it can be to the one suffering)... but at least then you have the chance to bid farewell. You know?
- You were such a big part of my history, and now... that history is gone. It's like a void where something massive used to exist, and it's hard to convey the sense of emptiness that evokes. How many others legitimately saw me mature from that awkward buzzcut 5th grader to who I am today?
- You were so young, energetic, and fit. If it can happen to you just like that, how vulnerable is my own world? Also, how will all of us ever marry our kids now?!?
- Lastly, I think I may just be getting even older than I thought. I'm just way more sentimental with the passage of time. At this rate, next thing you know, I'm going to be getting overly sentimental when 90s songs come on the radio.
I know. Sort of a pointless exercise wondering why your loss hurt so much. I mean, it's obvious given you are who you are.
But, if I had to frame it, I think I keep coming back to this for a few reasons. One is to better prepare myself for the inevitable losses to come ("growth mindset," right?), and two is... to better comfort others when they must walk these shoes.
No doubt this'll be of those perpetual works-in-progress.
Losing you has been hard man.
But that's natural, right? After all, it's a sign of how much you impacted my life, an indication of the quality of our friendship, and a representation of the life you lived and the life we should all aspire to.
You goody two shoes.
On that note, I bet your angel wings are gigantic. Like put Sephiroth to shame gigantic. Like so gigantic I probably won't be forgetting about Lent anymore.
Although, if I do, don't take it to heart. I promise I'll make it up with laughs in the years to come. Remember rainbow farts?
Happy 30th Huynher.
Love,
Con the Mon
Appendix
Wake Speech: For others processing grief, I wanted to share words I spoke near the peak of grief that more holistically convey how I find meaning in Brian's loss. Even today, I still find them helpful while recognizing that every person and situation will process differently. At the worst, I think it'll make you laugh from one person in grief to another, and I never underestimate the power of a good laugh.
Video Tribute: A tribute to the life Brian lived.
