I'm taking a break today from my usual stuff to write about something a little more personal. Fret not, I'll be back to talking about the dirty stuff next week.
Ten years ago today childhood ended. A bit of a strange way to describe an event that happened in my mid-twenties, but true nonetheless. Ten years ago today my good friend Jay Edmonds, along with three other friends of mine, was killed in a car crash.
I've had a bit of a charmed life, so it's hard for me to imagine anything else that would knock me into the disillusionment of adulthood as abruptly as this. It was a big party weekend for us in London, and all our talk was about parties and bullshit, as it should be when you're 24 and looking forward to spending a weekend with friends. But an early-morning phone call turned our fun weekend into a week-long vigil as we gathered together not to drink and get high but to cry and console one another.
Jay's death set off a disturbing string of deaths of friends which culminated in the death of Snickers two years ago. Jay and Snickers were like brothers, and the two of them and me and my sister were a foursome; spending countless hours at their place or ours, talking shit and listening to Jeru and Gangstarr until all hours of the morning. That our foursome is now two is one of the saddest facts of my life.
Jay was an athlete and an actor. A brother, uncle, son, and boyfriend. He was a joker and a spaz. He was a superstar. And he is missed.
When Jay was alive I never told him I loved him or how amazing I thought he was. With all the arrogance of youth I assumed he just knew. But I learned from Jay's death is that assumptions can quickly turn into ass-kickers. And that if you love someone, you should tell them. So in honour of Jay, tell someone you love them today.
