Dear Erik

Two years is a long-ass time my friend. It's strange because on one hand, I can't believe how fast two years has gone, but on the other hand, it feels like an eternity since I last saw you and spoke to you.

There are no words. I miss you like crazy every day. I think about you every day. It hurts so much, man. Even more so around this time of year. Seven years ago we moved into our suite in Bragaw. Seven years. What in the world.

You should be here so we can talk about all the insane shit that happened in those few months we lived there. I mean, did we pack some times into those four months, or what? Jesus. I can still hear your bass shaking the dorm walls. And I can still see you sitting there reading somehow in the face of jet-engine-level noise.

We should be able to go to East Village and take blue crush shots until we can't remember our names. We should be able to go walk around Bragaw and remember all of our nonsense. Like that night when we all walked over to the baseball field and hung out on the field. Fuck, dude.

I could have used some of your tough-love advice lately. You always had a way of just cutting right to the heart of the matter. You'd call me out if that's what I needed, and I probably needed it this time haha. It's been a hell of a few months, buddy. Hell of a few months.

You know, I look at the picture of us from my grad school graduation celebration, and I see your bright smile so full of life. It makes me so angry that you were taken away so young. It's not fair. When Danielle called me two years ago, whew. One of the worst phone calls I've ever gotten. I collapsed in my room. I went to work and sat in my office with the door closed and cried all day.

Fucking cancer, man. It's the worst. We've had a team in your name for the past two years in the Bark for Life event the American Cancer Society runs, and we're doing it again this year. No one will ever forget you or your fight, and if we can raise any money to fight this bullshit disease, then let's do it. I am making it my mission to get back to the area and actually walk this year.

You know what? That's enough of the sadness. Pretty sure you would have punched me in the stomach already if you were here and I was acting like this. So I'll close with some fun memories.

I'll be thinking about my 26th birthday at East Village, where you kind of assumed the responsibility of making sure I had no recollection of the evening. For the most part, great success, my friend. I only very vaguely remember the drive to your apartment (don't worry, I wasn't driving). And then, passing out on your couch and waking up the next morning in my bed somehow. Hey oh.

And your surprise birthday party in May 2009 at Danielle's house and the "HAPPY BIRTDAY" cake. Well done, cake decorator.

Or how about that time we went to the NCSU/Miami football game back in 2004 when College GameDay was on campus, and we printed up thumbs up/down signs to bring to the game.

We were sitting on opposite sides of the stadium, so we used the signs to see where we were. Pretty sure we used a lot of thumbs downs that night.

I have to say, I would have loved to see how ridiculous things would have been if you could have visited me in DC. I can't even imagine haha. Anyway, you better believe I'm throwing down some Jack-and-Cokes tonight.

Love you and miss you forever, my friend.

-BG

P.S. If anyone wants to check out Erik's Bark for Life page, head over here. If you feel moved to donate, thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you're in the Triangle area on Sunday, Nov. 6, bring your dog and come walk with the team. I hope to see you there.

The Streak

Have you seen the Seinfeld episode "The Dinner Party?"

It's the one where George gets the ridiculous gore-tex coat. And Jerry and Elaine go to the bakery to get the chocolate bobka, and Jerry gets a black-and-white cookie, etc. Well during that episode, Jerry mentions that he has a vomit-less streak of 14 years that ends up breaking because of a bad black-and-white cookie.

I happen to have my own streak, though I'm unsure of the exact start date. I remember the scenario and setting of the last time very well.

We still lived in New Jersey, which puts the streak at AT LEAST 18 years. I think I was around 9 or 10 years old, which puts the streak, really, closer to 19 or 20 years (which, ironically, makes me want to vomit).

I remember being asleep on the top bunk of the bunk beds in my room and having really weird, vividly gory dreams -- strange for a 10-year-old, I think we'll all agree. I don't remember what I ate that night, and I'm damn sure I didn't watch any weird movies or TV shows. But I do remember waking up and seeing my mom walking up the stairs after she got home from work late that night.

I watched her through my open door as she came up the stairs, carrying a to-go box of food from some restaurant. When she reached the top of the steps, I poked my head over the top of the guard rail...and proceeded to, well, cover some ground. I'll say it that way.

I don't remember anything after that. But I am 99.99 percent sure that's the last time I vomited -- at LEAST 18 years ago and probably closer to 19 or even 20 years ago. That's a hell of a streak. Jerry's got nothing on me.

But because of this streak, I'm now pretty much afraid of throwing up. It hasn't happened in so long, the thought just freaks me out.

There were three close calls that I can remember.

The first was on one of our infamous Wednesday night parties in the Fall semester of 2004. Erik, me and the rest of the usual group doing what we did on those nights. Drinking ourselves silly and then who the hell knows. I must have had somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-12 beers (oh to be 22 again...well, maybe not), and, at the time, I was a relative lightweight at drinking. That semester was the first time I'd ever even been drunk; so taking down a case by myself was ridiculous.

At some point during that night, all of the seating was, for reasons unknown to me, removed from my room. There were no chairs. I sprawled out on the floor face-down and waited for it to come. It did not. The floor was cool, and that probably helped. I made it to bed and woke up the next day, and that was that.

The next time was on June 23, 2008 -- my 26th birthday. The night started at Mitch's Tavern, where I met a bunch of friends and started off with about five or six beers. Then we moved on to East Village. I don't care what anyone says; I love East Village. I have too many fun memories there. I just love the place.

Let me tell you something about EV. They have this shot there called a blue crush. It is, of course, blue, and it tastes exactly like Sunkist orange soda. It is the best-tasting shot I've ever had.

At EV, Erik and a few other friends showed up. I mention Erik specifically because he was THE king of peer pressure. He could get you to do anything. From what I can remember, he took charge of basically funneling blue crushes down my throat. At this point, I'd already had around six beers. I'm not exactly a heavy drinker, and a high tolerance isn't usually one of my strong points.

I must have had 10 blue crushes that night. EV closed at 2, and the decision was made to go back to Erik's apartment for some Rock Band and more drinking. This is where it got dicey for me.

There were speed bumps and turns involved in the drive. I was not driving, clearly; but I do remember very sternly asking the driver to "turn slower" and "please god no more speed bumps. Find another way." There wasn't another way.

I was convinced it would happen either during the drive there or as soon as I got out of the car. Thankfully, it did not. I was belligerently excited to play Rock Band drunk, like you do, but I immediately passed out on Erik's couch. I have no recollection of anything after that -- did I wake up while we were there? How long we were there? Please god say I didn't drink anything else? How did I get home? When did I get home? How did I manage to remember setting my alarm to wake up and feed the dog?

Mysteries at the time. The next thing I remember is waking up at 8 a.m. to feed and walk Allie. My investigation the next day helped me conclude we were at Erik's for about two hours. I did not wake up, drink anything or vomit while we were there (Great success). I got home around 4:30 a.m. apparently and set my alarm before being propped up on my side in bed with some assistance.

I faced no significant threats to The Streak again until November 1, 2009. You may remember, that's the day I ran in the Raleigh half-marathon. I ran every step of the race, and finished in 2:19:51. It was a very hilly course. I remember around mile marker 8 feeling a little queasy. I'd just run eight miles and I still had more than four miles to go. That thought didn't help calm my stomach. As I was coming up a hill toward a drinking station I felt reasonably confident it was going to happen -- and soon.

I paused for a small cup of water, and I took some Gatorade with me as I left. Most of the Gatorade ended up on my shirt, seeing as how it's difficult to drink from a cup while you're running. But the water helped, and the queasiness abated.

I crossed the finish line, got my medal and screamed my lungs out in my car due to excitement. It did not happen!

So there you go. Those are really the only close calls.

As I mentioned briefly earlier, the downside to having this nearly 20-year streak is I'm now completely terrified of throwing up. It is very likely bordering on phobic. It can't be that big of a deal. People do it all the time, and, from what I understand, they often feel better afterward if a lot of drinking preceded it.

But I can't. The thought alone gives me the creeps and makes me shiver. And I plan to dedicate my life to extending this streak as long as I can.

Sorry this was kind of a gross topic. I tried to minimize the grossness as much as I could.

Anyway, check back next week! I plan to do a weekly "Accountability and Affirmation, baby!" update on the weight-loss extravaganza.

As for the weekend? Tonight, walking to a nice douchebag-less alcohol establishment with a couple friends, drinking inexpensive-but-tasty beer and watching old people dance (before I inevitably join them after a few drinks). Tomorrow? Redneck golf and a cooler of beer with said friends. If you're in the area, hit me up and come join us!

Later!
-BG

I guess I just miss my friend

"I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend." -- Red, Shawshank Redemption

I figured today is as good a day as any to return to the blog. I really can't believe today is today. September 2.

A year ago today.

A year ago today my friend Erik passed away.

I guess it's supposed to be better now. Time has passed. Time heals all wounds after all. In some ways it's more difficult today. The gut-wrenching sting of loss may have dulled over the year. But we like our milestones in our culture. A year. 10 years. 25 years. Etc.

Today means I can no longer say "Last year, Erik did this." "Last year at this time, we did this together."

That's gone now. It doesn't hurt as much as losing him, but it hurts to lose the proximity to him. Today is a reminder that he's further away than ever.

I know; I know. Remember the good times. Keep the fun and happy memories close at hand.

I try. I do. But God dammit it hurts.

I'm angry. I'm angry that someone so full of energy and life was taken away so young. I'm so sad. I feel sad for his parents. Seriously, they are two of the nicest people you will ever meet. I can't even imagine. Needless to say, every bit of prayer and good thoughts I have are going their way right about now. And the rest of his family, too.

OK I refuse to make this a sad bastard post. I can hear his peer pressure voice yelling at me already. He was the king of peer pressure. He could get you to do anything.

I met him six years ago right around this time. I moved into my suite in Bragaw for my last semester of undergrad, and his room was next to mine.

We became fast friends. Over the next five years, he became one of my closest friends. We must have hung out every day over the summer of 2006. Between his apartment, East Village and Danielle's apartment -- one or the other hosted our shenanigans that summer.

Here are two things I'll always remember about him -- well there are a thousand things, but here are two in particular:

1. He was always there when you needed him.

Doesn't matter what it was. Drunk at 4 a.m. and in need of fast food? "Let's walk to McDonald's." Girlfriend break up with you and need to vent/drink? "Let's go. I'll be right there."

Erik was the best at that. If you needed a friend, he was down. He was so good at it because he managed to toe the line between compassionate and brutally honest. Sometimes you just need to be called out. He could do that without making you feel like a complete jackass. Erik was sensitive to your feelings, but he had good advice, and he was honest about the situation.

2. He was perpetually concerned about something coming up.

Never failed. "Hey Erik, we're heading to EV tonight, you down?" He'd say, "Well it's only noon or so, I'll say I'm tentatively in, but I gotta keep my options open."

He's gotta keep his options open. I can't even tell you how often I heard that phrase. He never wanted to commit to something too early. So you invited him when you first made the plans, and then you invited him again 30 minutes before you left. "Erik, I'm walking out the door in 30 minutes -- are you in?" "Yeah, I guess I'm in. Why not?"

Why not, indeed!

This picture was taken the night I graduated from grad school. I didn't plan a big party or anything, but after the ceremony I decided I wanted to get some drinks to celebrate.

I called him up, and he came out on short notice. I guess he didn't need to keep his options open that time...haha. He got me a nice big bottle of scotch that lasted me for quite a long time.

A year ago today. Unbelievable. I cannot comprehend how he's been gone for a year.

Just like last year, the American Cancer Society is doing the Bark for Life event. It's a dog-walk event in Cary, N.C., that raises money for cancer research. Here's a link to Erik's team page. The walk is Oct. 23, 2010, and even if you can't make it (as I might not be able to now that I live in Maryland), we can still raise money in Erik's honor to try to beat this dreaded disease.

Jimmy V said "Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever."

Let's always remember Erik so those things do carry on forever. Tonight, I'm drinking a Jack and Coke in your honor, Erik. Rest easy, my friend. I'll love you and miss you always. Na Zdrowie.

Quick Hits

A couple of quick things:

We Met Our Goal!

Bark for Life is Saturday, and our team (Viva La Duck) reached our goal! We set what I thought was a pretty lofty goal of raising $1,000, and through the donations of SO many generous people we surpassed the goal.

Thank you so much to everyone who donated in honor of Erik! Now just come out on Saturday and walk with us! Dogs not necessary! Come walk!

Positive Thinking

I've always been a bit of an optimist (with the exception of sports for the past few years). I generally believe things will work out, and, for the most part, things usually DO work out for me. I've been accused of just having incredibly good luck, and maybe that's true.

But maybe good things happen because I expect them to happen. If you're waiting for bad shit to happen, bad shit will happen. Guaranteed. It's just the way things work.

So I've really tried to focus on thinking positively about as much as I can. Don't get me wrong -- sometimes shit just happens. But for the most part, for the past couple weeks anyway, I've felt better about myself, about life in general. I try not to dwell on negative things because, really, when has that ever helped?

I resolved to think positively when I was laid off back in April, and I had a very relaxing month at home with my dog, living off my severance pay. And then the first job I really applied to came through and has been an unbelievable opportunity and experience.

There really is something to this positive thinking thing. I've specifically been applying it to the Yankees recently (so sue me), and it's been working remarkably. As you may remember, it's been a pretty dark five years in Yankeeland. I spent much of that time just waiting for the next thing to go wrong, and it never missed a beat. Something always went wrong.

This time, I decided that was unproductive. And look where that's got me? I'm going to go home tonight and watch Game 1 of the 2009 World Series!

LET'S GO!

That's all I've got for now.
-BG

Bark for Life

The American Cancer Society is holding an event in Cary on Oct. 31 called Bark for Life. It's a dog-walk version of their normal Relay for Life events.

Just like RFL events, you can raise money for the ACS. Anne started a team for Erik, of course, and we're in!

If you're in the Cary area and want to bring your dog along, join our team and walk with us! Otherwise, please donate what you can. Anything helps and is appreciated.

Let's raise some money for our friend Erik!

I'm Right Here, Waiting

Here's a special Erik-inspired music post. All of these songs will always remind me in some way of my friend.

Blink 182 - "Not Now"

We used to sit in my dorm room and play this song over and over. We both loved the drums in it, and it's a great song to play loudly. He especially loved the part right after the first verse where Tom DeLonge screams "Please save me."

Unfortunately, the song -- because of its lyrics -- took on a whole new meaning after his diagnosis. I'm not sure if he ever knew it, but Anne and I listened to this song and couldn't help but think of him, hoping it never came to what it eventually came to.



Yellowcard - "Only One"

This is another great song to play too loudly. Again we both loved the drums in this song, and the buildup in the chorus. His favorite line was always the part where the singer literally screams the words "Scream my lungs out." I can still see him mock-screaming it in my room.



Reel Big Fish - "Trendy" and "Beer"

If you've ever sat in my car at all, you've heard a Reel Big Fish CD --guaranteed. Whenever Erik would ride with me, he always specifically asked me to play these two songs. "Trendy" is a fun song with a great horn line, and "Beer" is just as classic a RBF song as there is.





Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Maps"

I'll never forget listening to this song with him over and over and over in my dorm room. I lost track of the number of hours spent trying to teach him the guitar solo to this song. I'm certainly not guitar master, but I can play a few songs, and I can figure out a few things. Erik desperately wanted to play, and I had my electric guitar in the room. It was a good match.

He'd come in and ask for something easy to play that he could learn fairly quickly. This song played randomly one day, and he heard the solo. He asked if I knew it, so I messed around and figured it out -- it was a pretty rudimentary solo, but it sounded awesome -- it's essentially just sliding your hand up and down the fretboard. He'd try it for a while and just miss the right frets. Occasionally, he'd hit the right frets in the right rhythm, and he'd be so satisfied with himself.



Good times, man; good times. I also had a drum practice pad and some sticks in my room. He'd poke his head in and be like, "hey man, can I play with your practice pad some?" He'd sit behind me and try to play along with whatever song I was listening to at the time, and I tried to give him a few pointers. One thing I wish: I know how much he wanted to play the drums, and I wish he could have sat behind mine just for a few minutes so he could have played on a real set.

Anyway, just a few songs that will always remind me of Erik. I really do miss my friend.

Na Zdrowie

I really hope I got that right. It's Polish, and it means "to your health."

Erik used to say it every time he took a shot. Today, we said our final goodbyes to him at his funeral. From now on, it'll just be visiting where he rests.

He always told us he wanted his funeral to be a huge party. Anne said he once told her he wanted clowns at his funeral. She begged him not to do that, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm glad he listened to her.

But funerals aren't for those who've passed. They're for those who remain to grieve, to console and to begin the healing process. Before Thursday night at his wake, it just seemed like words.

"Erik passed away."

It wasn't reality. I could hardly believe the words as they come out of my mouth when I told Anne. It was something, some nightmare, happening somewhere else, in another life, to someone else. Just words. Horrible words we feared would come ever since his diagnosis, but still just words.

But walking into the funeral home, seeing tearful family members, seeing pictures of Erik when he was young and, of course, seeing him resting in the front of the room -- it's a stomach punch that brings you back to reality.

Oh that's right. It's not just words. "Erik passed away" is more than just a few letters making up a few words I know. It's real. He's in there. Well, he's not in there. And that's really the point.

The part that made Erik Erik -- that part is gone. The body is just a shell.

Jimmy V said "Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever."

Erik's soul will never die. Every time any of us who loved him do anything that reminds us of him -- that's how he lives on. The part that made Erik the person we loved was not lying in the casket in Goldsboro. That was a shell -- a shell that grew too weak to contain the force of nature that was the Erik we knew.

That's why funerals are important for those of us left behind. It marks the beginning of the end of the tears. It's the last goodbye. From now on, we'll never have to go say goodbye to Erik. We'll just go visit him where he now rests. From now on, the tears will fade more and more every day, as impossible as that may seem now. From now on, the laughter and happiness he brought will come to the forefront more quickly and last much longer.

We started that tonight. Erik always said he wanted this day to be a big party, so a few of us gathered together to go to East Village on Hillsborough Street. If you're friends with Erik and have spent any time in the Raleigh area, you probably have one or two hundred memories of him at EV.

The healing process begins now. Every day will get a little easier to get through. We won't miss him any less. But we'll be somber a little less. We won't love him any less. But we'll be sorrowful a little less.

We did our best to do kick off this next phase of our lives with Erik. I ordered a couple Jack-and-Cokes -- just as he would have done -- and we all had a round of shots. We lifted our glasses to our dear friend who left us much too soon, and we said the words he so very often said himself.

Na Zdrowie.

Erik Hrebenuyuk

This guy, man. This guy.



Five years ago, I moved into a suite in Bragaw Hall at N.C. State for my final semester of college. I can't even begin to explain the crazy things that happened that semester. A hundred stories for another day.

Erik was there for many them. He was there for ME for many of them, anyway. There were considerable shenanigans, and those shenanigans also included some of the toughest times of my life up to this point. Needless to say, I couldn't have gotten through any of it without friends like Erik. He helped me through a ton. Just a ton.



Three years ago, he was diagnosed with bone cancer in his pelvis. A few months later he was in remission. In April of 2008, it came back. Fiercely. We heard he had six months to a year to live. Well, Erik, you fought long and hard. But you're finally free.

Erik passed away just after midnight early this morning -- Sept. 2, 2009 -- more than a year and a half after that horrible prognosis.

So buddy, I'll think of you every time I drink on a Wednesday night. Every time I read a paper with strange capitalizations and an...interesting writing style. Every time I ever watch the movie Pineapple Express because James Franco sounds JUST like you in it.

I'll think of you every time we make plans to go out at night because you NEVER could commit. Always had to "see what my options are." :) Every time I think of the movie The Ladies' Man for that one scene: "It says here your interests are tennis and, what's this, does that say dabut?" "No, no, dat's da butt."

And Cook Out and "I'm Not OK" and Eurotrip and "Only One" and scotch and Risk ("Gen-u-ine and fortified") and Rise Against and "Beer" and a million other little things.

I'm cracking open a Rolling Rock and drinking with you on a Wednesday night one more time, just like we used to do it.

I love you, and I'll miss you. Rest in peace, Erik. You're finally free.