I don't remember the first time I met him, but it would have been during a Salzburg orientation meeting. He was one of the people I'd be spending a year abroad with, and we all had to go through them, so I assume he was in them. The thing is, moments in your life pass by unnoticed, and you never think on them until years later, and you find that the memory is gone. Can't have been important, you tell yourself. We called him the Patriarch, cos he was older than all of us, and the name lent itself in a year we were studying Art History like it was going out of style. He was lucky enough to get one of the only two single rooms that the UP Salzburg Centre has to offer, and he would stand on his balcony, cigarette in hand, and survey the courtyard-- and mutter comments about Schneibel under his breath. Or maybe he didn't, but this is how I remember it. I do remember he was there, with Bri and Ali, on the day I got back after a night of extra-curricular activities. And he wondered why it took me so long to start enjoying all that Europe had to offer.

After Salzburg, we were part of a great group of friends who hung out with each other and, to be honest, whoever the fuck wanted to hang out with us. It wasn't until after University, when I moved away because working on a cruise ship seemed like a better idea than getting a real job, that I lost touch with him. Then he went into the Army, and I don't think we said two words to each other in twice as many years.

It wasn't until FaceBook that we started to reconnect. Say what you will about the evil timewaster, it IS a good way to keep in touch, reconnect, and bombard people with game notifications. It was good to catch up, and to find out that he was going through some of the same things I was. Drifting apart from people, through no fault of anyone's but life, it was a comfort to know that there was nothing wrong with me. While other people were getting married and having kids, he made it okay in my mind to not want any of that. And when I coerced him into coming down to Portland for our 10-year Reunion, it was because I was selfish and wanted someone to grumble with.

The last time I talked to him was January. He asked me to write a letter of recommendation for Seattle University. He'd decided to go back to school, Seattle University, to join the Therapeutic Psychology Program. I'm lucky, because I got a chance to let him know what I thought of him, how highly I valued our friendship, even if the letter was for a specific purpose. I didn't have to embellish.

Fuck, this is hard. I'm going to miss you, Greg. I'm going to miss your 'Ladieth Man' impressions. Your opinions, your stubbornness, your compassion, your generosity, your friendship.

Thank you, old friend.