Blasian

9-19. The call comes in, and I hear sounds I never thought I’d hear — and pray to God I never hear again.

My best friend, my son’s best friend’s dad, had just been murdered.

The second I knew, I started calling and texting Blasian. Every time, the line would pick up, connect, and go silent. I can only assume it was him answering as he lay there dying. Maybe I’m wrong. But that’s what I believe.

I found out when my ex called and I heard my son in the background, screaming, bawling his heart out. I collapsed in my front yard — couldn’t stand, couldn’t hold myself up. The second that sound hit my ears I just fucking dropped, like Jeff Reed had teed up my balls for a field goal. All I could think about was my son, and what he was being put through.

After a few moments we hung up and I called my best friend and his wife. By then, clear thinking had long since left the building.

Once the initial shock passed, the next thing I remember is M. asking Shane, “Where’s Pagani? Is he safe? If he is, tell him to stay put.” (More on her later — she’s the keeper of all the secrets, knows where every skeleton is or isn’t buried. Just kidding.)

Thankfully, the bike was in pieces. So were all the fun cars. And surprisingly, the loudest thoughts in my head weren’t the unmentionable things I wanted to do to the man who shot him. They were of my son. Hearing him like that tore through every wall and scar I have and shook me from my core. I thanked God the bike was apart — and that, in that moment, my first and loudest thoughts were of him.

Twenty years ago, this would’ve been a completely different story. Caution out the window, calls already going out. And I don’t know how that one ends.

All of this, fifteen days after my remote position was eliminated.

Blasian’s funeral was a lot of tears, a ton of laughter, and even more memories — shared and made. It was beautiful.

I took a month and a half off. No recruiters, no work, nothing. Whatever I felt like doing, I did. It usually wasn’t much, but it gave me room to process. Some days I got out of bed. Some days I didn’t.

Eventually I started looking again. Landed a couple of contracts, and decided to start my own company. Out of something terrible, something good came.

I still have days where I want to message him. Or go for a ride with him.