Just before I entered high school, three friends found themselves through a love of punk rock. They called themselves the Moron Brothers, despite the song of the same name being the exact opposite of who they were. They weren't idiots, or losers, or scum. They weren't taking advantage of anyone. Yet, the song was funny enough for them to give themselves the name anyway.
When I entered my sophomore year of high school, I became the fourth member of the Moron Brotherhood. I was adopted into the group that made up of Chris, Mike, and Ger(ald).
We had other friends during our time in high school, but of the Moron Brothers, we were the core group. After high school, we did our best to stay together, even though some of us moved far away. Despite meeting nearly two decades ago, we made it a point to all get together when we were all in town, so we could catch up and talk about the good and bad times that had passed.
A little more than two weeks ago, I got a call from Ger. He told me that Chris had passed away.
No one knows how he died. The only information that Ger had to give was that his kids found his body on the couch in the living room. Nobody knew anything else.
Chris had a myriad of health problems, both mental and physical, so as of now, we still don't know how he died. Was it a suicide? We don't know. Was it a heart attack at his incredibly young age? We don't know. Was it a drug overdose? We don't know. As it stands, we still don't fucking know.
I went to Chris' viewing with Mike and a few other friends from high school. When Mike asked his family about his death, they said they were waiting on a toxicology report, and it wouldn't be provided for a few weeks. We still don't know how he died.
During the viewing, I talked with Mike and a few others from high school. We were still in a relative state of denial. The funeral home had a slideshow on their television where they showed a whole bunch of pictures of Chris from the time he was a child to their most recent photo. We had a good laugh at his pictures, especially the ones from our high school days. I made it a point of taking a shot on my phone of this one:
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| Chris is the one on the left, in what is most likely the most 90s picture of the entire 1990s. |
While we were surrounding his body, Mike kept talking about he was once some happy-go-lucky kid that was always up for anything. I think he was trying to romanticize Chris' life. I met Chris just after he nearly killed himself over an ex-girlfriend. He was never a happy-go-lucky kid to me. He was just an idiot with mental issues.
I told Mike and the others in our party, "I keep trying to remember a good memory of Chris, but honestly, I can't remember any time when he was with us that he wasn't a fucking idiot...goddamn it, he was a jackass, but he was our jackass." Mike agreed with that assessment.
That probably sums up Chris' life, or at least what I remember of it. In high school, he loved to brag about how much he masturbated (during that time in high school when bragging about such things was both funny and taboo at the same time). He would attempt to bed the Christian girls that he dated by becoming engaged to them (in high school, an engagement usually means nothing, and he knew that). In adulthood, he joined the Army Reserves as a Petroleum Supply Specialist and did his time in the sandbox without Ger or me (who also did our own time in different Army companies). He married too young, had kids too young, and kept figuring out his own life as he went along without much regard for what he did next.
Chris was a jackass, but he was our jackass. I really can't emphasize that last part enough. He was our jackass; the one crazy friend that everyone has in their group. The friend that you always tried to convince to not do some stupid shit, but did anyway, and ended up with some funny stories as a result.
During adulthood, Chris had many jobs in his adult life that took its toll on his body. After the military, he ended up being a paramedic (and convinced me to get my EMT license because of it). After lifting bodies onto stretchers ruined his back, he did his best to get a job with one of the auto plants around here. Last we all knew, he became a Realtor, and kept hounding us to give up our personal information so he could put us on an email list to impress his boss. He was struggling to get his life together up until the very end.
That was a week before he died.
We still don't know how he died. Of all the things that suck about his death, that tops the list. I'd at least like to know that he didn't take his own life. In the darkest parts of my mind, I need to know that his death wasn't self-inflicted. Yet, as of this writing, we don't know what happened.
If there's one thing I can give advice on concerning his death, it's that life is too fucking short, and you need to spend it with the people you love. Enjoy your life while you have it with people that care about you. The Moron Brothers spent way too much time apart despite our love for one another, and it took a tragedy to bring us together again. Make it a point to spend time with your friends, your family, and those that you love. The moment that you spend with them might be your last.
Anyway, as I stood around Chris' body with my friends, we all took a good, hard look at his body as it lay in the casket. I said to the group:
"Chris was such a prankster, that I keep thinking that he's going to pop out of the casket any second now and scream, 'SURPRISE, BITCHES!'"
It's something that Chris would have done. The asshole would have faked his own death just to pull a prank.
I really wish he had done that.
He didn't.
Here's to you, Chris:
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