Kensey

Kensey was so much more than my best friend. He was my family. He was so much a daily part of my life that I was absolutely lost when he died. 

This is the eulogy I tried to read at his celebration of life. I cried and I talked too fast and no one could actually hear my words. 

I think it might have been the night of the blizzard when Kens told me, “Of course that’s a horrible idea, but if you’re going then so am I.” That's probably when I realized we were the same people. 

He was more than my best friend. We chose each other as family. We spent entirely too much time in bars, especially the one we bought, which he was absolutely giddy to own for the last 7 months or so. 

He was so full of life and had so many stories that its difficult to believe he fit everything into a single lifetime. Anyone who knew Kensey could spend days talking about who and what he was to each of us. 

So, I'm going to talk about what he wasn't. 

He was not, as he claimed, emotionally unavailable. Unexpressive maybe, but not unavailable. He would do anything in his power to help a friend. If Kensey loved you, you knew it, even if he never said so. 

After his retirement he claimed to be allergic to manual labor. He was not. He was the first person to offer to help with lawn work at my brother’s when Jason was unable to do it himself.

He was not lonely. He surrounded himself with interesting people and had more friends than anyone could ever possibly count. 

He was neither bored, nor boring. He despised being bored and was afraid of seeming boring to others. 

No one could ever say that he was boring. He had a million stories to tell, and he did. They were sincere, hilarious or heart-wrenching, depending on the situation of the telling, but they were always fascinating. 

He was not sick. He once told me that if he couldn’t do what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it, he’ d be better off dead. I can’t imagine him ever being ill or bedridden. Kensey was far too full of life and any debilitating illness would have been infinitely more tragic than the way he left us.

He was not able to hold his bladder for more than 15 minutes on a road trip, which possibly had something to do with his buying coffee everytime we stopped for him to pee. 

Eric and him made it a point to tell me that we were only stopping for gas on the way home, but that it would be irresponsible not to pee when we were already at the gas station. 

They pumped $1.98.

Several times. 

He was always down for a road trip, even ill-advised ones to New Orleans that started at 4am and ended in some dive bar in Illinois before we came all came to our senses. Yes, yes there was alcohol involved. It took us 14 hours to bar-hop home from Illinois. 

He loved New Orleans, Key West and Arizona, and I doubt any of those places will be the same for any of us without him. 

He was not gay anymore. He told multiple girls this as a pick up line, including the henna tattoo artist in Key West… While she was writing “I’m not gay anymore” on his arm. As far as I know he never got a single date using this pick up method. We’re also pretty sure he was never gay in the first place.

He decided he was not allergic to gluten. In fact he tried to order extra gluten with most of his meals. He enjoyed telling anyone who claimed to be gluten intolerant that they should just decide to not to be.

His life was his own and I’d say he lived it the fullest. He had a damn good time doing so. 

If he were here with us today, he’d pat us all awkwardly on the shoulder and say “I’m sorry kid.” Then he’d buy us shots until we stopped crying.