...
Two weeks have now passed since one of my best friends (of which there are already very, very, very few) has unexpectedly passed away, and it's hardly any easier to confront. I had hoped to be able to put everything into words before now, but it just wasn't happening. Even now, I am still unsure of what to say about everything, and I doubt that whatever follows will truly do him justice. That's certainly not to imply that he wasn't worth talking about or that I have nothing to say about him, for quite the opposite is true.
Pat McAdams (aka fingerhead) had been my friend for nearly half of my life. We first met through our mutual use of the computer bulletin board system (BBS for short) in and around the Huntsville, Alabama area. I seem to remember our first real-life meeting taking place at a Fugazi concert in a gym in 1995, although we had interacted in text form for quite a while before that. Regardless of when we actually first met IRL, our initial face-to-face interaction was minimal. However, as we continued to communicate Pat quickly became an important person in my life. While we lived approximately half an hour away from each other, we still managed to hang out regularly. Quite often he would call me at the last minute because he was going to be in the area, or he would just show up at my parents' house looking for me. I was always quick to go with him on some adventure, whether it was simply going for a walk on the trails near my parents' house or taking a road trip to Birmingham or Atlanta.
Unfortunately, after I moved to Atlanta we saw a bit less of each other. Pat remained in Huntsville for a while after that and eventually relocated to Nashville. He made a handful of visits to Atlanta for various events, such as Dragon*Con and even my and April's wedding. I only made it up to Nashville a couple times while he was there. But wherever we were, we always had a great time. In fact, I'm quite lucky to only have good memories of the times we shared over the years.
I remember the time that we were driving around Huntsville in two separate cars (Pat driving one and Seth driving the other) while actually racing to the mall for no apparent reason. I remember playing Wesley Willis for him for the first time and seeing his face light up. I remember riding in his car and jokingly singing "Strange Patrick" along to an Electric Light Orchestra song with him being only slightly preturbed because he wasn't used to being called by his full name. I remember him showing me a book he would never read and opening it up to reveal the hollowed-out pages containing his stash. I remember him coming back to my apartment after a GWAR concert, covered in fake blood and totally wishing it could have lasted all night. I remember driving from Atlanta to Huntsville on two hours of sleep to see his band perform at a sci-fi convention. I remember rocking out on our guitars at midnight when I lived in my own place on Northside Drive in Atlanta. I remember huddling around the TV to watch a bootleg of the R. Kelly sex tape that we had picked up at the flea market earlier that day and all recoiling in horror at what we saw. I remember going to a strip club in Nashville where we had to buy beer across the street to bring into the club. I remember waking up after crashing on his living room floor to find that he had cooked pancakes for breakfast. I remember countless times of just sitting around and talking into the wee hours of the night. I remember so many other little things that all seem to kind of run together in my cloudy mind, but what I always remember from anything we ever did was that plenty of laughter was always involved. (One memory that I wish we shared was his pilgrimage to Toad Suck Park in Arkansas, which I had to miss because I had just started a new job. Hopefully, Jack won't mind retelling that story someday.)
That's not to say that we never had any serious times between us. Pat was always there to lend an ear and a hand whenever I needed it, and vice versa. He was always willing to help in any way he could, whether or not geography actually stood in the way. Just knowing he was there was usually help enough, which makes the fact that he's no longer there even harder to handle.
Over the years, we had some times when we'd been out of touch for a while. This was usually a case of us simply getting busy and never the result of any static between us. We recently had a period like that, where he was going through a rough time in Nashville and had not been communicating with me (or anybody, really). The next thing I heard from him was that he had moved to Florida for a job and to put some distance between himself and a girl. I was sad that I hadn't been there to help him through that time, but I hadn't known what was going on until it was nearly over. After his last move, we were communicating every day. We talked on the phone a few times, but we sent instant messages back and forth throughout our workdays for nearly a year. He always worried that he was bothering me, but I always looked forward to hearing from him and felt bad when I'd have to be unresponsive because I had work to get finished. We had recently been talking about the possibility of someday opening a drive-in movie theater together. Our mutual love of cheezy movies had fueled many of our recent conversations. I would tell him about all the movies I had seen out here, and we would both wish he could have been out here, too. He was looking forward to the possibility of getting a higher-paying job next month. He was looking forward to the upcoming presidential election and who was finally going to get the Democratic nomination.
Unfortunately, he was looking forward to many things and had felt for a long time that his life had been on hold. This was perhaps the most frustrating part of his untimely passing; he never reached whatever he was hoping to reach. He was only three years older than me, and heart failure took his life like it was nothing. All I ever wanted for him was that he would get to a place where he was happy and felt like he really belonged, and I hope he is there now. It depresses me that he was never able to visit California because I know he would have loved it out here. I had so much that I wanted to show him. I always tried to get him out here, but he was saving all the money he was earning to get his life back on track. I just wish he had been given a little more time to make that happen. But now he doesn't have to worry about it anymore; it's the rest of us who have to figure out how to carry on without him.
I truly miss you, Pat. Even while you were here on this earth, rarely a day passed where I didn't think about you in some capacity. I loved you like the older brother I never had. I will never, ever forget you. You are an awesome and truly unique person who deserved much better than you ever received or allowed yourself. I only hope I helped make your life more enjoyable, as you certainly did for me.
Pat McAdams (August 5, 1974 - May 10, 2008)
Pat McAdams (aka fingerhead) had been my friend for nearly half of my life. We first met through our mutual use of the computer bulletin board system (BBS for short) in and around the Huntsville, Alabama area. I seem to remember our first real-life meeting taking place at a Fugazi concert in a gym in 1995, although we had interacted in text form for quite a while before that. Regardless of when we actually first met IRL, our initial face-to-face interaction was minimal. However, as we continued to communicate Pat quickly became an important person in my life. While we lived approximately half an hour away from each other, we still managed to hang out regularly. Quite often he would call me at the last minute because he was going to be in the area, or he would just show up at my parents' house looking for me. I was always quick to go with him on some adventure, whether it was simply going for a walk on the trails near my parents' house or taking a road trip to Birmingham or Atlanta.
Unfortunately, after I moved to Atlanta we saw a bit less of each other. Pat remained in Huntsville for a while after that and eventually relocated to Nashville. He made a handful of visits to Atlanta for various events, such as Dragon*Con and even my and April's wedding. I only made it up to Nashville a couple times while he was there. But wherever we were, we always had a great time. In fact, I'm quite lucky to only have good memories of the times we shared over the years.
I remember the time that we were driving around Huntsville in two separate cars (Pat driving one and Seth driving the other) while actually racing to the mall for no apparent reason. I remember playing Wesley Willis for him for the first time and seeing his face light up. I remember riding in his car and jokingly singing "Strange Patrick" along to an Electric Light Orchestra song with him being only slightly preturbed because he wasn't used to being called by his full name. I remember him showing me a book he would never read and opening it up to reveal the hollowed-out pages containing his stash. I remember him coming back to my apartment after a GWAR concert, covered in fake blood and totally wishing it could have lasted all night. I remember driving from Atlanta to Huntsville on two hours of sleep to see his band perform at a sci-fi convention. I remember rocking out on our guitars at midnight when I lived in my own place on Northside Drive in Atlanta. I remember huddling around the TV to watch a bootleg of the R. Kelly sex tape that we had picked up at the flea market earlier that day and all recoiling in horror at what we saw. I remember going to a strip club in Nashville where we had to buy beer across the street to bring into the club. I remember waking up after crashing on his living room floor to find that he had cooked pancakes for breakfast. I remember countless times of just sitting around and talking into the wee hours of the night. I remember so many other little things that all seem to kind of run together in my cloudy mind, but what I always remember from anything we ever did was that plenty of laughter was always involved. (One memory that I wish we shared was his pilgrimage to Toad Suck Park in Arkansas, which I had to miss because I had just started a new job. Hopefully, Jack won't mind retelling that story someday.)
That's not to say that we never had any serious times between us. Pat was always there to lend an ear and a hand whenever I needed it, and vice versa. He was always willing to help in any way he could, whether or not geography actually stood in the way. Just knowing he was there was usually help enough, which makes the fact that he's no longer there even harder to handle.
Over the years, we had some times when we'd been out of touch for a while. This was usually a case of us simply getting busy and never the result of any static between us. We recently had a period like that, where he was going through a rough time in Nashville and had not been communicating with me (or anybody, really). The next thing I heard from him was that he had moved to Florida for a job and to put some distance between himself and a girl. I was sad that I hadn't been there to help him through that time, but I hadn't known what was going on until it was nearly over. After his last move, we were communicating every day. We talked on the phone a few times, but we sent instant messages back and forth throughout our workdays for nearly a year. He always worried that he was bothering me, but I always looked forward to hearing from him and felt bad when I'd have to be unresponsive because I had work to get finished. We had recently been talking about the possibility of someday opening a drive-in movie theater together. Our mutual love of cheezy movies had fueled many of our recent conversations. I would tell him about all the movies I had seen out here, and we would both wish he could have been out here, too. He was looking forward to the possibility of getting a higher-paying job next month. He was looking forward to the upcoming presidential election and who was finally going to get the Democratic nomination.
Unfortunately, he was looking forward to many things and had felt for a long time that his life had been on hold. This was perhaps the most frustrating part of his untimely passing; he never reached whatever he was hoping to reach. He was only three years older than me, and heart failure took his life like it was nothing. All I ever wanted for him was that he would get to a place where he was happy and felt like he really belonged, and I hope he is there now. It depresses me that he was never able to visit California because I know he would have loved it out here. I had so much that I wanted to show him. I always tried to get him out here, but he was saving all the money he was earning to get his life back on track. I just wish he had been given a little more time to make that happen. But now he doesn't have to worry about it anymore; it's the rest of us who have to figure out how to carry on without him.
I truly miss you, Pat. Even while you were here on this earth, rarely a day passed where I didn't think about you in some capacity. I loved you like the older brother I never had. I will never, ever forget you. You are an awesome and truly unique person who deserved much better than you ever received or allowed yourself. I only hope I helped make your life more enjoyable, as you certainly did for me.
Pat McAdams (August 5, 1974 - May 10, 2008)