We only met once, 3 years ago at the shittiest bar in Houston, Texas. Andrew sat at a table with the rest of his family and his new sister-in-law, my dear friend Rebecca. I sat and quickly introduced myself, not feeling for a moment self-conscious because they were the most inviting group of people I have ever encountered, and maybe that’s because they were british, but I digress. I sat next to Andrew, and soon we were enveloped in conversation; I attempted a weak English accent and we talked about the differences of life in the states vs life in England.
We were quick friends.
Andrew went home to England and I stayed stateside but it never mattered because in the thick of it all we corresponded. We’d catch up on occasion and he often waxed poetic about the fact that he never kissed me the first time we met. Oceans apart, I cared for Andrew the way I care for the people I see daily.
Three days ago Andrew was killed in an auto-pedestrian accident on his way home from watching a football game.
Today I am crushed, I am crying, and I am thinking about him. There are great injustices in this world and the loss of a person like Andrew is one of them. To the friends who knew him, his extended family, they lost someone who radiated joy and made life a blast, to his immediate family they lost a brother and a son and condolences seem like barely enough.
We are going to miss you, Andrew, all of us, everyone you ever spoke to and anyone who had the incredible fortune of meeting you. I’m sorry that I never gave you that kiss, and it seems that fate in all her cruelty will have us wait just a bit longer for it to happen, but I assure you that you are first on the list.
Sleep well, sweet Griff, at least you have your father to keep you company, I’ll see you soon enough.
xx
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