Last time I saw Anton was about a year ago on the street in front of the Bar. He crossing one way, I the other, and we stopped and had a conversation in the middle of the street.
Anton was looking to get Something from someone, and dodging someone else because he owed them money.
I was looking to get Something from someone, and dodging someone else because I owed them money.
Funny thing was the person I looked to get something from was the person he owed money to, while he looked to get Something from the dude I owed money to.
We recognized, in the friendliest way possible, that we presented a Liability to one another’s plans for the evening, so — with a good laugh, a high-5 & a round of ‘good lucks!’ — we quickly parted ways.
And that was the last time I saw my buddy Anton. He died yesterday.
The brain starts to Cut Deals with itself, when a friend dies. Like, ‘Hmm. How close was I with this buddy Anton?’ As in, how upset should I be that he died?
Me & Anton were buddies. I liked the kid a hell of a lot. So I should be upset. But I hadn’t seen him in awhile. So I don’t need to be devastated. Right?
Maybe. But it feels achey & Wrong.
I have friends who’re closer with Anton. I just spoke with one on the phone. I hoped to learn more news from him. My buddy on the phone hadn’t heard any news about Anton for awhile. I had to tell him that our friend had died.
Anton was tall & kind of goofy. He was always happy to see a friend. Every time I ran into him he made a point to ask me how my writing was going. Anton cared. I appreciate that.
Gonna miss him.
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