Sometimes I appreciate the fact that I don’t work for a major publication, that this is my own site, and I don’t have to worry about what my boss will think about what I post. If I’d rather post something else, I can.

And today, I would rather post something else.

I lost a friend yesterday who had been a part of my life for 20 years. That’s a long time. And even though we didn’t spend every waking hour or minute together, and sometimes fell out of contact only to fall right back in, he was a constant in my life. And I know that beyond me, he meant a lot to so many others.

I remember so many things about my friend, Ryin, that I don’t really know where to start. I’ve been trying to find videos of him singing because he had such an amazing voice. This is why people keep things. Memories. Little pieces of people we can look back on. We live in an era where it’s so easy for people to leave behind mementos, a legacy, even just their voice. A few weeks ago, I was going through my voicemails and realized I had voicemails from people who were no longer around, and I couldn’t delete them. It was their voice, and I would never get to hear anything new from them again. Nothing new, nothing fresh. The idea of hitting delete felt impossible. For anyone who still has a contact in their phone for someone they can’t call or text anymore, there’s something about holding on to what little we still can that is comforting. We go looking for those bits and pieces, those mementos, because they are reminders of time spent, of life lived, things said, and opportunities missed.

Ryin had family, but he also had a found family. I think some of the people most important to him were the friends who stood behind him and with him, especially these last few years while he battled an impossible diagnosis. Some of his loudest champions weren’t connected to him by blood, but were people whose lives he had changed along the way. Ryin was a bit of a unicorn in that he sort of defied everything. He very much had a wild and crazy side. I remember seeing him so often dressed for work in boring outfits, but at the same time, I’ve absolutely seen him in full drag. He was loud, out, and proud long before I was. And while the LGBTQ community certainly has its stereotypes, one of them isn’t necessarily an obsession with cars, specifically the kind of car modification you find in The Fast and the Furious. And that was exactly the kind of stuff he was into. He had his own community within the car world, providing that extra special fun fact about him that most people probably never would have guessed. We also both chose lip piercings, although he had snake bites, so instead of one in the center of the bottom lip like mine, he had one on either side. Because of course he needed two.

We met in college when I was thinking about pursuing musical theater, and I had plenty of opportunities to perform onstage with him. So many songs have run through my head since yesterday, songs I’ve heard him sing that feel like definitive performances of his. The first one that comes to mind, and I’m sure will come to the minds of many people who knew him, is when he played Dr. Frank-N-Furter in The Rocky Horror Show. His “Sweet Transvestite” was fantastic. I also distinctly remember his versions of “See Me” from bare: a pop opera and “Gethsemane” from Jesus Christ Superstar, along with seeing him as Gabe in Next to Normal. A few years ago, we were invited back as alumni guests to perform in a 20th anniversary concert, and I once again had the privilege of singing with him during a period when he was already battling a rare form of cancer. He had to get up on that stage one more time and perform, to put his voice out there for the world. Getting to see him again was wonderful. But the fact that the song we were featured in together was “I Am the One” from Next to Normal is unforgettable, and now feels haunting, beautiful, appropriate, scary, and about a dozen other things jumbled together.

For those unfamiliar with Next to Normal, the number is performed by three members of a family: Dan, who I played; Gabe, who Ryin played; and Diana, who was played by a current student. This created an interesting dynamic where the person playing my son was slightly older than me, the person playing my wife was considerably younger than me, and the person playing his mother was considerably younger than him. On paper, without knowing anything about the song, it’s humorous to think that this was the trio that came together. But if you know what Next to Normal is about, there’s another layer to it. The musical centers on married couple Dan and Diana, who are raising their daughter, Natalie, their second child after losing their first, Gabriel, when he was just a baby. In Diana’s mind, Gabe has continued to grow up, and all the therapy in the world can’t seem to help her process her grief as she continues to see him throughout the musical. “I Am the One” is essentially two people pulling at Diana, one trying to keep her in the present and one pulling her toward the past. Dan is trying to convince her that he’s always been there for her while Gabe is trying to convince Diana not to forget him. Two parents and their ghost son. And that was my final performance with Ryin. Sorry for the spoilers, but if you don’t know the musical, my guy turns out to be a bit of an asshole, because at the end it becomes clear that Dan has been able to see Gabe too. After Diana leaves, Gabe doesn’t go with her. He stays with Dan.

There’s a lyric from Spring Awakening that always comes to me when someone I care about passes, and it has remained such a comfort for me. Of course, it became even more full circle when, just a week ago, we lost Duncan Sheik, the composer of Spring Awakening. There’s a song in the musical called “Those You’ve Known,” and it begins with one of the most beautiful thoughts I can imagine about loss: “Those you’ve known and lost still walk behind you.” While there is more to the song and a deeper context to what it means and how it’s being performed, there’s something comforting about the idea that as we continue through life, those we lose along the way are carried with us. I know Ryin had suffered loss himself, and I’m sure he was carrying many people with him already. We both lost a mutual friend about a decade ago, and I feel his presence a lot, especially whenever I hear a song I know he performed. These friends of mine who continue to live through my life are connected to songs. I’ll hear the music, even if their voice isn’t attached to it, and suddenly I’m back at a time when we were performing together, singing together, or when I was simply sitting there appreciating the magical gift God gave them.

Part of getting older is that your list of people you’ve lost keeps growing. The thing about Ryin is that he always showed up. And I feel like it became so hard for everyone to show up for him in the end because the world was kind of collapsing in around him. There’s a lot about the process of living with a terminal illness that people don’t talk about. The world is sympathetic, but there are still treatments to be had, trips to the hospital, care to be given, side effects from medication, and through all of this, somehow you’re still expected to maintain an income so you can pay rent and bills. It becomes this unbearable reality where eventually something has to give. Ryin spent the last year or two really leaning on friends just to have a place to live, to have somewhere to call home, while he continued to fight as hard as he could for as long as he could. His diagnosis was never good. I remember seeing that first post on Facebook and my jaw dropping because the chance of full survival was incredibly low. Even the chance of five years was low. But he got those five. And I like to think part of the reason he got them was because the people he had stood by so many times were now standing beside him. His friends in the car world even helped put together a sort of Make-A-Wish situation for him, getting him to Japan, somewhere he had always wanted to go.

The way Ryin lived his life was to support other people, and for life to turn on a dime and suddenly put him in a place where he needed that support himself feels particularly unfair. If you are someone’s rock, if you’re the steady one, the constant, the person who always shows up, you’re not doing that as some kind of down payment on a future moment when you’ll need something in return. You’re doing it because you’re a good person. Showing up and standing beside someone is simply the easiest choice for you. You need to. You want to. Life so frequently asks those who give to eventually be willing to receive, and I hope that never negates in anyone’s mind the fact that the person they now feel they have to show up for originally showed up for them simply because that’s who they were.

Ryin had so many friends. So many people whose lives changed yesterday with just the realization that we’ll never hear him sing anything new again. His laugh. His wisdom. Everything he ever said has already been said. Everything he will ever sing has already been sung. Everyone he was ever going to meet and impact has already felt the weight of his presence in their life. We all experience loss and grief differently, and depending on how many important people surround us, that can magnify or soften how we respond. In this case, I’ll always have memories. And I hope everyone whose life he touched remembers him well.

For you musical theater lovers out there, I’m going to close with something from “Days of Plenty,” the ballad from Little Women. And yes, I’m changing the pronouns to fit the situation. I know the song. So believe that he mattered, and believe that he always will. He will always be with you. He’ll be part of the days you have yet to fill. He will live in your bounty. He will live as you carry on your life. So carry on, full of hope. He’ll be there for all your days of plenty.

I’ll be back with my usual content, probably tomorrow. But thanks to anyone who read this. If there’s someone out there you haven’t spoken to in a while, say something. If there’s an opportunity to be kind today, please do. If there’s an opportunity to spread joy or love, then be excellent to each other.

But most of all, if you have an opportunity today to sing a song, Ryin would love that.