I can remember as kids, you’d ride your bike to my house. You’d stop by to see my brother or my cousin. And we’d always talk. Even as kids, respect was there.
As teenagers, you’d stop by my house for the latest Chamillionaire and Swishahouse mixtapes. It became a mutual thing we’d talk about.
As time went on, your family and my family became close. Whether my mom and the kids were at your house, or whether your family was at my house—for many years, it was a weekly thing for us to see each other.
I also started knowing you as the guy that could cut my hair at any time, any location. Whenever I needed a cut, no matter the time, you were there.
When I was dating Lindsey—your ex and the person you have a daughter with—she’d fuss about you, and I’d have to be careful, because I’d usually take up for you, and then we’d start fussing.
And most recently, the night before my interview with AT&T, I needed another last-minute hair cut, and you were there to take care of it for me, as usual. This was in March, and it was the last time I saw you.
When I combine all of these little moments together, they turn into something important to me. You were someone that was in my life for many years. And even though we weren’t the closest, that respect and friendship never wavered.
I wrote all of this as I reflect on your life and prepare for your funeral. Just wanted to let you know that you’ll definitely be missed.
It's simple: if you write your email address here, my words will reach you again.