This will be a very different entry than what I have posted so far. It has taken me a bit to gather my thoughts. I am still just shocked, I’m still numb. One of the inspirations for this blog has been my cousin, who I mentioned here, an irrepressible explorer and consummate adventurer. We grew up together, a small, close knit family, he, my sister, and I, influencing each other’s tastes and ideas, his quest for knowledge and new experiences mirrored our own, but went so much farther than we ever felt possible Through urban exploration, house shows, and a thousand other interests and skills, my cousin plumbed the heights and depths of the Twin Cities and afield. From anime to collage work, circuit bending to M:TG, and the vast artistic and social exploration of the punk subculture, his interests evolved as often as he picked up tattoos. He was a dynamic and awesome person to have in your life. Tragically, crushingly, he became a victim of a scourge that has been currently haunting Minnesota. It was not his plan to be done so soon.
We had plans that very weekend to enlist in the Ruination: City of Dust, and the expedition into the Haunted Basement. He had plans to jam with friends and start a new band, ride his new motorcycle and play his new guitar, a Fender Jaguar. He did not plan for this, but it happened. No one knew how far in he was, and everyone was shocked. He knew secrets about the heart of the city, and he shared many of them, but, it seems, my cousin kept a few as well. We all still wonder how this happened. Addiction is terrible, but to all appearances, he seemed full of plans for the future and was in a good place in his relationships.
At the funky old funeral home on Snelling, his memorial packed the place with more mourners than had EVER crowded into it before, and the mood was distraught. None knew how this had happened, though, and I have had no experience like it before. It kind of makes me question the meaning of this blog, though I know he would want me to continue. He never judged, which may be how he ended up befriending half the city, from the suburbs to the halls of the Minnesota Orchestra, from the mosh pits to the top of the Grain Belt Beer sign.
I can’t even begin to comprehend how my aunt and grandparents feel; personally, I feel lost. I guess I can only keep on exploring in his honor, though I am a poor study. It is still difficult to really comprehend that he is gone and we will never see, talk, or play Magic with him again. His zest for life made our lives seem static and dull. It was inspiring to see how many friendships he cultivated, how many people gained by knowing him, but, right now, it has been a tough week and a half and no day will go by where I won’t wonder where he is and wish we could still be adventuring together.