party aint a party...

I can say without a doubt the world I inhabit now is less bright, less cheery and less of a place I long to be a part of.

Kevin Cotter was a friend, a mentor, a storyteller, a jester and so much more. I hate myself for never acknowledging that to his face, but I know him well enough to understand that he in fact already knew that. I never needed to tell him because his intuition was stronger than most.

I was blessed to spend more time with him as a youngster than as an adult. I honestly I cherish that more for no other reason than the fact that Kevin always had a youthful soul and spirit. As an awkward teen I identified with him more than I believe I ever could as a dour and tired adult. Thankfully that painful discussion of death and finality never happened, and I believe in my soul that it wasn't ever supposed to. He was too joyous of a man to ever let that conversation take place.

Truthfully I knew him casually, but I adored him like family. Kevin Cotter is a special kind of wonderful that only a few people get to know.

You left too early.  I adored you, and always hoped one day to be worthy of your praise as a writer. You had an unusual gift of storytelling and I am eternally jealous and grateful that you always cheered me on. If I am even a quarter of the writer you were, I would be honored. 

You knew even when I was young, that you had my heart in your hands. And you were so careful and so delicate. You never once, not ever, led me to believe that you didn't love me too. As a young, lonely, and awkward pre-teen, too long of leg and clumsy to feel comfortable, you made me feel like a princess more times than I can count. You made me feel radiant and brilliant and special. Every time.

You knew, without my ever needing to tell you, what means to have your first crush acknowledge you. To love you back in the best way possible.  I am forever grateful for never actually needing to tell you this. I don't know if you understand how much I cherished that time together. Then and now, it was always a treat. I am forever your happy lapdog, or nuzzling kitten, or other wonderfully playful but innocent metaphor of unrequited love. You will always be my first superman. My Hero.

I can never tell you how horrible it is to know that the essence of who you are was stolen from you in your last years. That your wit, your candor, your ease of conversation wasn't yours due to that damned tumor lodged so deep in your head. But I know that you were always there. 

Kevin, I hope you know, I never felt you were ill. You were just waiting for the next better thing to come along. Your intuition won out. Now you know more than the rest of us.

I was lucky.

He was luckier.

He got to leave before it got boring. He always did have an ineffable sense of timing.