GiveLoveLiveMore

Caller: “What’s up, man? How are you?”

Me: “I’m cool. What’s up?”

Caller: “Did you hear anything about Brad passing away?”

A wave of numbness crossed my tongue as I held a shallow breath.

Me: “Naw, man….I haven’t heard that,” sounding perplexed.

Caller: “Someone’s calling. I gotta take this call. I’ll…I’ll call you back. Bye.”

I got off of the phone confused, but tried not to worry. I was in the middle of doing some work, so I tried to put it out of my mind. After all, it wasn’t true, right? But in a span of five minutes, I received a series of texts that only confirmed my physical response to the earlier question the caller asked.

Brad was gone.

I was shocked: the type of shock that flooded my mind with memories. Laughs. The way he answered the phone when we talked. Everything. All at once. From that moment on, I thought about him. So many times we have shared over the years. We were in each other’s weddings (he was my best man in my first wedding). I could hear some of the silly things we used to say to each other. We shared so many laughs, road trips, silent tears and so much more.

I couldn’t believe it.

From that moment on, I thought about him all day. The only time I didn’t think about Brad was when I was doing something that required my full attention. At night, I tossed and turned but didn’t get my normal amount of sleep. When I did sleep, it was far from restful. I thought about his wife, his kids, his Momma, his siblings: everyone. It was only a little over five years ago since burying Brad’s father. That was the last time I saw him in person.

Brad was the type of friend that I didn’t have to talk to often. Me and my close friends are like that. We talk maybe once or twice a year, but pick right back up where we left off; often times talking and laughing for a couple of others. He truly had the gift of gab and never met a stranger. You were the most important person in the room when he was talking to you. He laughed and sung loudly. He sang with using nothing less than his full voice. His love of Yacht Rock led him to become an unlikely singer at karaoke nights. Brad truly was The Life of the Party.

Damn. Ima miss my boy.

I’m not is a state of “what-ifs”, but I feel like we needed more time to experience great times in each other’s lives. I was looking forward to Homecoming this year, celebrating our 25th anniversary as men of the Alpha Lambda Chapter of Kappa Alpha Psi. But this coming October, we will gather knowing that one member of our Noble Klan is no longer present in the body. The Seventeen have now become Sixteen.

I am most thankful that nothing was ever left unsaid between us. We said what we needed to, good or bad, and then moved on. He knows how much I love him. I know how much he loves me. As adults, we would always end our phone convos the same way: “I love you, Brother.”

And as the story goes, I hope that wherever you are, Bradford, you have on a seersucker suit, with a straw boater on, catching up with your Dad. Rest well, dear Brother.

I Love You Forever.

Until Next Time,

Herb