Dear Andy

Dear Andy,

We all place bookmarks in our life to highlight and chronicle the passage of time. While some people delineate those milestones by happiness and joy, I tend to mark mine by pain.

When I turned 40 last November, I couldn't help but think back about those defining periods in my life. In retrospect, this probably wasn't the best idea. Not only was my marriage in serious trouble at the time but I was also having one of the worst years of my life. Between life, loss, work and family, it seemed as if everything was close to unraveling apart.

To make matters worse, some of my fondest memories in life were always of you, me and Paul celebrating our birthdays together. So naturally, the sadness of missing you always hits me especially hard during that time of year. Aside from 9/11, that's when I truly miss you the most. Even in the best of times, those memories of our birthday celebrations always cast a shadow of melancholy over everything in November.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I found myself in a pretty dark place.

During those tough times, I couldn't help but think about how you would never allow me (or any of our friends) to ever suffer in our sadness alone. Sometimes we'd sit and talk for hours late into the night. Other times, you'd make it your life's mission to put a smile on my face. Your genuine kindness and inherent generosity knew no limits. Was there anyone's face on whom you couldn't put a smile? I often think that was your greatest gift. Over the course of a lifetime, is there any greater gift one could ask from a friend?

It's still hard for me to believe that it's been eight years today since we tragically lost you. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Other times, it feels like eons ago.

But no matter how much time passes, the pain never really goes away. It never escapes and truthfully I never want to it to. In a weird way, I think I consciously choose to embrace the pain more now because it makes me feel closer to you at a time when I feel like my memories of you are slowly starting to slip away. Sometimes it's almost as if the only thing I have to remember you by is the pain. Does that make any sense?

It's strangely disconcerting how time has changed how I miss you, Andy. For years, I used to painfully miss all the things that so tightly bound our lives together: your daily telephone calls to my office precisely at 8:00 am, the weekly dinners with you and Kyle, the serious late-night talks out at the beach, Sunday night movie club, those absurdly fun vacations all over the place, or all those long, lazy afternoons watching the Giants game and then tossing a football around in Central Park. 

Somehow things have changed now. The ways that I miss you are all so different from one another. Sometimes I'll hear a new song on the radio and my first immediate thought is "Man, Andy would love this tune." Or I'll see someone on the street and my heart will jump into my throat: not because the person looked like you did eight years ago but because he looked like how I'd imagine you would look now. Then there are those momentary pangs of sadness I feel when I stop and realize that I'll never have another friend who was just like you.

I still miss you terribly, Andy, and I think about you all the time. We all do. It doesn't matter how often we all see each other these days, you'll always be the glue that will forever keep us connected. You always were. There's something very comforting in knowing that.

Speaking of "la famiglia," we don't see each other as much these days. Life, work and children have gotten in the way. But man, you would laugh your ass off if you saw us now. Shary is the lazy, old man that we always joked he would become. We went skiing in Utah this year and, at one point, he asked me and Kyle to pick up his socks. Needless to say, all three of us were sitting on the couch together at the time. Russell is still Russell. Last time I saw him, he was going on a macro-vegan-organic diet, absolving from alcohol, and hitting the gym every day. Vegas had the over/under on that at about 8 hours. Roy has become fully Persian and continues to make babies on a near-annual basis but he's still the same lovable low-talker that he always was. And your old roomie Kyle is still the fun-loving single guy that we've known for years. Since Sofia and I decided to get divorced, he's alternated between being my partner-in-crime, my surrogate spouse, and my therapist.

So yeah...basically I guess I'm saying that although things have changed, everything still remains the same.

I know I always say that I won't cry on 9/11, Andy. This year, I don't think I'm I'm even going to bother fighting the tears. Instead I'll embrace the pain of your loss and use the time to remember all the many things that I loved about you and the many ways that you affected all our lives.

You were one of the best friends a man could ever have and though our time together was tragically cut short, I consider myself lucky to have had you as a friend. For that, I will always be grateful.

I will always love you.

And I will always miss you.

Rest in peace, Andy. 

Love,
Your friend Pierre

Comments

[Captain Dumbass]

You're lucky to have had a friend like that, Pierre. Rest in peace, Andy.

[gabriella]

I lost my older sister on 9/11. It saddens me that my memories of her are fading and yet I also cling to the pain. Thanks for sharing this, MD. Never forget.

[J. Massey]

Your annual post to Andy always makes me sad, Pierre. Not just for your loss but because I've never had friends that close. It's rare. You're lucky to have had it. My thoughts are with you.

[Caroline Walberg]

Thanks for sharing this-so beautifully written. Every year your annual letter about Andy make me cry, they are so touching.

[Kristie S.]

It seems that, as a nation, we've forgotten the tragedy of 9/11 and how it affected the lives of so many people who lost their loved ones. Every life affects so many. Thank you for sharing this, MD.

[MT]

My thoughts are with you MD. Along with all the friends and families of the victims of this horrible tragedy.

[Penguin]

Here's a big, warm hug for you, MetroDad. That's for you being such a brave guy.

[Shruti]

u gave me goosebumps.. prolonged one.
so beautifully put. :( must've hurt so bad losing him.. good u cherish the lovely memories...

[ParentopiaDevra]

In Judaism there is a belief that hope must be present even in the most tragic of circumstances. Often Jews will write in condolence cards, or say directly to a mourner, "May his memory be a blessing."

I've always considered this to mean that our memories of the departed are the blessing to us, but in reading your letter this year, I realize it's not just about the living, Andy created his own memories of you even if he isn't in a position to share them. Those memories exist, in an odd kind of perpetuity. And maybe in that there is a blessing as well.

This is such a tough day for so many. I will always be grateful to you for giving me a way to mourn my own 9-11 loss when I couldn't quite figure out how.

[Aimee]

I was thinking of you today and will continue thinking of you and sending good thoughts and prayers your way. Take care of yourself, especially today.

[JS]

I miss Andy too.

[Darren]

There are still no words to help. Thinking of you and all those who lost loved ones today.

[Muskrat]

I started telling people two days ago to make sure they visit your blog today. While I expected it to be poignant and well-written, I didn't expect it to be this emotional. I guess it has been a rough year for you, making an absent best friend even more noticeably painful.

May happy hour start a few hours early today, and may there be many around you when it does.

[Julie Kang]

Can't find the right words, so a big virtual hug to you and those who love Andy.

[Keyona]

Beautiful. I did really good today until I read that. You are right. There is no need to fight the tears. Those "once in a lifetime" friends are hard to find. I'm sorry you lost yours.

May today be a day of mourning and tomorrow bring a little more light.

[snickollet]

What a beautiful tribute to Andy, and to friendship.

[Leslie]

Beautiful.

[ray lee]

Hey MD,

I looked at the calendar this morning and saw that it was 9/11. I quickly thought of you and your annual letter to your dear friend Andy. During 9/11, I lived in the LES, a 15 min walk to the WTC. I heard the plane hit the first tower and I saw people fall out of the burning building as I was walking to City Hall to catch the Uptown N-R train to work. When the towers collapsed, my entire apartment was covered in ashes and dust.

Despite all that, the first thought was about you and your letter to Andy. After reading these letters for the past couple of years, it feels like I know Andy and I'm beginning to feel a little sense of "loss" for him as well. I'm sure he's smiling right now.

Anyway, I haven't commented in quite a while (partially because my work blocks your blog), but also because as much as I love reading your blog, there are so many things that I can't relate to and cannot offer any words of support or encouragement.

I'm really sorry for all the pain and suffering you have gone through in the past year. I had a feeling that there was something wrong when you haven't spoken or mentioned BossLady in your posts for quite some time. I hope that things are working out for the best for you, her and Peanut.

-ray leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[theo]

R.I.P. GoGo

[girdtmom]

I am so sorry for your loss.

[Christa]

Thank you for putting so eloquently into words what so many of us feel today for all of the victims and their families and for the losses in our own lives. I lost my Mom a year ago and she was so much more than Mom. She was my sister, my best friend, my mentor, she was woven into every fabric of my life. It is so hard some days to see the world go by like nothing is missing from it when it is forever altered for me. While I must learn to function in a completely new reality. I fought it for awhile. I wanted desperately to feel like me again. To feel "normal". I soon realized this feeling is normal. My new reality. I must find life and happiness and myself in it and continue living and smiling to honor all that she is to me and all that she gave while she was here. She is still here with everyone who knew her every day and so is Andy. You honor him with who you are every day and you carry him with you through every experience and it makes you better for honoring him with your life.

[Heather]

GoGo was the best. I'll always remember those amazing blue eyes and the smile that he would carry with him everywhere.

[Alicia Gibson]

Beautiful.

[Stefania/CityMama]

Because of you, I remember Andy on this day, too. I didn't know him, but I know that you are a good person and a great friend. Hugs to you from all the way over in California. I hope you can feel them.

[Busy Mom]

Like Stefania said, I remember Andy through you, too. I hope that's OK.

[Rachel E.]

Lovely Pierre. Lovely.

[NG]

I had a feeling I might see a Dear Andy letter today when I pulled up your site. I remember him too now.

[Alison (Alison's Book Marks)]

Thank you for sharing that letter with us. You are lucky to have been blessed with a friend like Andy.

Bless you, and may Andy rest in peace.

[alice, uptown]

Your tribute to Andy makes me cry. Also angry, for what might have been and was cut short.

Sending lots of virtual hugs your way. (One of these days we may actually meet IRL, but until then, virtual is as close as it gets.)

[Linda]

I read your 9/11 posts every year and I cry every single time.

[always home and uncool]

Amen.

[Marie]

I love reading your posts, but have never left a comment. Your writing is very universal; not only does it speak to women, it also appeals to men. I enjoy it so much and laugh over the other entries so much that I shared with my husband and he now enjoys your blog as well. Your letter just leaves me speechless. Andy is blessed to have had a friend like you!

[YP]

Beautiful post! And you're right - you are really lucky to have had such a great friend. Your post reminded me of this poem:

Come then, Sorrow,
Sweetest Sorrow!
Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:

I thought to leave thee,
And deceive thee,
But now of all the world I love thee best.

[Grandmother]

I am so sorry for your loss.

[Oodgie]

I didn't know you wrote an annual letter to such a great friend you lost but I'm glad - and sad - I stumbled upon it. Back in NYC this week from TX and it feels right to be here. Thinking of you, those who were lost, and everyone whose world changed 8 years ago. Incredibly moving letter - lucky you and him to have such a great friend in each other. Thanks for sharing,

[Mamma Mia! Me a Mamma?!?]

OMG! This was touching. So beautiful.

May your friend live on through your memories and your love.

May his soul rest in peace.

[Jason]

I have a friend who I'm similarly close with, and even though we don't get to talk as much anymore with life happening, we still make the best of it. Still saddens me to read another one of these posts, but I'm glad you had a friend like that. Know that we all love you, and support you, and we all enjoy your posts.

I'm a big fan of yours and glad that I can read these and feel that someone out there knows how I feel, granted I'm thousands of miles removed, but I'm still feeling a common thread. Thank you so much for being such a well-spoken human being, with feelings, and thoughts, and things that make you not seem like the people that are on "reality" TV...I watched the documentary 102 Minutes That Changed The World. Still stings to watch that stuff.

Much love to you and support for your family as it dissolves and becomes separate. Love to the Peanut as well, I hope she's dealing well with this.

[Nina]

Been thinking of you this weekend MD. Every 9/11 I remember Andy, even though I never knew him, because of you.

[LeeMarvin]

I am very sorry for your loss. The pain and anguish that you've expressed says how much Andy was loved. His life teaches us that tomorrow is promised to no one and that you have to enjoy life to the fullest. The memories of your life together are a testament to that. Your words carry his spirit to us all.

God Bless

[Toe Knee]

This was very moving. Andy is lucky to have a friend like you.

[Boyer]

I'm so sorry.

[Jane]

This is truly heartbreaking. I could only hope you well and good. Andy is surely guiding you all the time. Thank you for sharing your feelings. Good luck on everything. By the way, these best gifts that you could give your better-half might interest you too. Thanks and have a nice and fulfilling day.

[Kelly]

i had to hold my tears for this one. stay strong, MD. always believe in the silver lining.

[elaine]

i'm feel like hugging my love ones a bit tighter after reading ur post. thanks MD. take care.

[Lisa]

For everyone who has lost someone dear to them, this message is profound and so very, very true. Thank you.

[kyungmee]

That was really very touching letter. It is really beatiful that you you reflect every year of your special relationship and of what and where you are in the present. Thanks! From, Kyungmee

[ChristieNY]

::: tears :::

beautiful MD. just beautiful. i never knew andy but love him through you. hang in there.

[dining furniture]

..teary-eyed after reading your letter. You are lucky to have a friend like Andy. he is still there watching over you! RIP Andy!

[DefendUSA]

It's good that you write these posts, MetroDad. I spent 9/11 in DC this year doing things for the troops and saying thanks. It was awesome.
So many have forgotten, but those who lost someone never will. I feel a little pain in my heart for you when you say that "Andy would have loved this song" thing...I do that with my friend, Mike. He will be 27 forever but this year makes 24 years that he's been gone. When I look at us in pictures having a shaving cream fight, well...ouch. But I still remember. And mostly, I smile.

[Petri Dish]

sadly, I look forward to your letter to Andy. Andy represents a beautiful, natural friendship that is few and far between. May his legacy continue with you and his other friends.