Remembering a Friend

A lot has happened lately. A good friend died last month in Los Angeles, shortly after my father died. His name was Brian. He was around my age, and his death was sudden. News of it spread like wildfire, friends, family and co-workers sharing their shock, sadness and tributes on social media. While I've talked to a few people on the phone, it is taking me some time to process. For now, I just want to share some memories.

Brian was a good friend of my late husband Kaz. They worked together at DreamWorks Animation for a few years and remained friends afterwards. They both knew music really well, loved football, hard liquor and curvy women. I met Brian in 2008, the year that Kaz and I officially started dating - I can't remember if it was at a show or at Thanksgiving, but I remember liking him right away.

Brian was rough around the edges but a sweetheart. Tall and blond with a raspy voice and loud laugh, he always reminded me of a viking, except he was from Montana. It seemed like he was always either going fishing or had just returned from fishing. Every time we went over his house he offered us fresh fish to take home.

Brian had started dating a woman named Erin around the same time as Kaz and I started dating, and the four of us used to  hang out quite a bit. We went to a lot of rock shows together, the Glow Festival in Santa Monica, bike rides on the beach, Thanksgiving, Super Bowl and Halloween parties. We witnessed each other's ups and downs. Brian and Erin were really supportive when Kaz was ill, and were among the last people to see Kaz alive.

After Kaz died, Brian and I hung out every now and then and kept in touch via texts and phone calls. We got together every year to celebrate Kaz's birthday at Jumbo's Clown Room. We went up the mountain to visit the spot where Kaz's ashes were scattered, and  to see Kaz's favorite band Clutch.

Once, after he watched my dog for a week while I was traveling, I gave him the gift of a small handmade knife with his initials engraved on the handle. It was perfect for skinning fish. Of course, when I gave it to him, I forgot to tell him that it was a knife inside the rolled up fabric. When he unwrapped it, the knife fell to the floor with the pointy end lodging into the wood an inch away from his big toe. I was mortified, but Brian thought it was the funniest thing ever.

When I left Los Angeles for New York, I took the Northern route and traveled through Montana. I called Brian from the road a couple of times to tell him what a beautiful state he came from, the most beautiful I had ever seen. He loved hearing that. I felt like I understood him just a little better having seen his home state, where one felt the wildness in the landscape and the people.

I will never forget Brian. He was larger-than-life in many respects, beloved my many, a really good and loyal friend, and a helluva lot of fun. He loved Kaz like a brother and was so kind to me after he died. We didn't talk too much directly about this mutual loss, but we toasted many drinks and shared many laughs remembering the good times. Kaz's death rocked many people's worlds and I know it was a huge loss for Brian. He went up to visit Kaz on the mountain on a regular basis, always posting a pic of a Maker's Mark bottle with a brief note, "Came up for a visit. Miss you big Kaz."

It's strange to think of the world without Brian. I'm so grateful that I knew him and got to share some good times with him. My heart goes out to his family and loved ones.

We will all miss you, big Brian. Give Kaz a hug for me.

Kaz and I at Brian's Halloween party

Erin and I posing with Brian at a Fear Factory concert

Brian's Maker's Mark bottle on Kaz's mountain