Holding on to the Memories

Hi Eugene,

It’s your birthday today, but I’m sure you knew that. You would have been 32. It would have been another year of Old Man Wong.

It’s been quite a while since I wrote in this blog. It’s been even longer since I wrote to you and asked you how you were doing. I’m sorry I haven’t checked in as often as I should have. I hope you’re doing okay.

For me, life has adjusted to an extent since you left us almost 2 years ago. I feel ashamed to say that I haven’t thought of you as often as I used to. I’m sorry for that, though I know that you’d be happy to hear it.

It still feels strange from time to time knowing that one of my best friends is just not there anymore, but it’s easier to accept nowadays. Time helps to normalize all changes, and ease all pains. Thankfully, more often than not, instead of sadness, regret, and guilt, I find myself reminiscing on fond memories. They feel distant now, seemingly from a different time. They’re fuzzy and framed, as if they’re not quite mine anymore. I latch on to them like a security blanket, because that’s all I have left.

Last month, we went to Texas for Angie’s birthday. One morning, you came up in conversation. There was a momentary air of sadness, but eventually, we smiled as we came up with a new nickname for you. Your username used to be Moonlight Zhuri. That day, it morphed into Bud Light Zhuri and I think you would have loved it. You probably hated Bud Light, but the joke wouldn’t have been lost on you.

The last few days in particular have not been easy. I’m constantly reminded by Facebook memories of how much we did in September. Seven years ago, we filmed “Chicken Intervention.” While the sketch isn’t great, the time we had filming it was by far one of my favorite memories.

 

Three years ago this month, we all went to Japan and had possibly the best 11 days of our lives at the time.

So while the world still feels like something’s missing, the void is less painful than it was before. While it’s obvious that time had a hand in it, our memories of you have helped to fill it at least a little bit. I’ll never forget you, bruuh.

At times like this, however, your absence resonates even more so. Our group is the smallest it’s ever been and when a day like this rolls around, the void grows larger and hollow. Some of us are taking it harder than others.

But days like this seldom come. Like I said, it’s easier than it was before. I just wanted to reassure you that, for the most part, it’s better.

I forgot to mention that your family is good. Sorry to say that they’re still a bit broken up about losing you. Every so often when we take them out to eat, I catch a glimpse of your dad shedding a few tears. It’s hard to see, so I try to look away to give him his moment. They love you. Don’t worry too much, because they seem good. Every time we take them out, it’s like a game to see who will pay the check first. Your dad got the better of us last time, but it’s okay, we’re still up by a couple points.

At times, I look back on how sad you were and how well you hid it. You didn’t deserve to feel such sadness, when you made so many people happy. I’ll continue saying it over and over again, until somehow it reaches the afterlife and gets through your hair helmet: You were very loved and you need to know that.

To recap, it doesn’t hurt as much as last year. You’d be happy to know that we’re getting better, little by little, day by day. However, we do still miss you severely. All of us.

Keep on.

Adam