The thing about sudden death is it’s suddenly permanent. We think that we’ll get our last word in, but it’s always death who gets the final say. Our friends are all rendered temporary by the machinations of time and health. If we are lucky, we get to tell them we appreciate them. If we’re lucky, we get to remember them laughing. From all accounts, Forest spent his last day with friends doing just that. He went to bed expecting nothing less than the love of those closest to him, and by all accounts he would not be disappointed in what he found. Grief is the natural response to the loss of a loved one and pain is the natural result, but these things will never diminish the facts of a life lived well. Still we are here, and here in the present we must navigate the pain of loss, the pain of plans left unfulfilled.

Still, to quote Kahlil Gibran:

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.”

We are the ones left behind to do the work. Forest has already confronted the unknown and is beyond this pain. It is we who must adjust and heal. This endeavor is one that will oscillate between community and solitary work. I encourage those who are feeling touched by loss to reach out to their friends and find solace in the shared experiences. I encourage you to seek out stories you never knew before and learn more fully the life we should celebrate. Death is an intimate experience, but it is no less of life, and we can no less learn of our friends through the stories of those who they chose to surround themselves with.

Forest was always a one-step removed figure for me. Close friend of my close friends, but I met him far after his life became extremely busy. On occasion we would talk, and each time I found myself wanting to get to know him more. At first it was because my friend Fausk wanted me to, but each interaction was frictionless and Forest’s commitment to empathy was obvious. Each of my friends who knew him held him in high regard. It’s funny, really, how many of his friends were my friends. If the timing was different, I’d be grieving more than playing an impromptu pastor.

And yet I knew him. Through his work, through the occasional conversation and through my friends. I am surrounded by people, important to me, who feel this loss keenly. I can think of no stronger evidence of a life well lived.


And so, I join them in bidding farewell. To a cornerstone of my community. To a friend of a friend. To a friendship I had hoped to kindle.

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
[...]
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”