RIP Gus...

My college friend Gus Lynch died this week.

This isn’t a dig for sympathy or some other such nonsense.  All prayers, well wishes, good thoughts and what-not should be directed to his wife and two young-uns.

I don’t want to make it out that we were the best of friends back in the day or that we shared some of the deepest, mind-blowing moments on-stage.  And frankly, I hadn’t seen him in like 15 years or so.  Many of my college theatre chums are still back in the Twin Cities, and I haven’t even been in the Midwest for 7 years.

The point I want to make, is that I am really flabbergasted by his departure -- that and how it's making me feel. 

As with so many of my talented former classmates and now life-long friends, I always held Gus up as “one of those actor friends from my past lives whom I would love to work with again someday”.  High hopes and ever-lasting dreams of producing my work and getting the best of the best of my gifted chums in on the deal – for old times sake.

Well, that’s not gonna happen now with Gus.

I’m having a hard time determining where this loss it hitting me in my psyche.  Again, we weren’t best friends.  Colleagues, stage-mates and friends, but not what I would consider “close”.

And yet, here I am feeling very down.  Very vulnerable and kinda stupid for feeling such things -- especially when his family and closest co-horts are all in a grief mind-spin.

He was one of our own.  There’s that old saying – something or other about college friends being friends for life.  And that’s certainly true.

I’m beginning to think I’ve taken on one of my mother’s worst traits – I’m very selfish.  Here I am, babbling away about the loss of Gus, and somehow -- making it about me.  I guess it has to happen.  This introspection when someone you knew and appreciated, is just not there anymore.

My mother used to say, right after my Grandma died, that the biggest thing is, of course, the loss of a loved one, and that no new memories will be made.  But there’s this creepiness that “you’ve moved to the front of the line”.

Gus and I are only 2 years apart in age, but this random phrase from my mother keeps running through my head.  ??

I’m frankly shocked that it’s hitting me like this.

Gus was a talented guy.  I saw his comic career in its very early stages, so I never got to see the heights to which he soared in that arena.  But my many times opposite him onstage live on as fond memories.

My best recollection of Gus, is that he was fierce and powerful, but if the shit went down, I always felt like he would have my back.  I guess in the relatively little time I knew him and spent time with him, it was that side of him which most intrigued me.  He saw me.  He recognized me.  He understood me.  He would mock anyone (including me) with his quick wit, but he knew (in my case) that I could tend toward fragility and he understood what line could not be crossed.  He was sensitive when it was really needed.  He got me.

And people don’t change.  Despite the fact that I spent no time with him over the past decade and a half – I would venture to say that his kids were the lucky ones.  And Mandy hit the jackpot with him – assuming he continued that fierce loyalty and acute sensitivity.

More babbling.

I’m feeling a great loss.  And back to that selfishness – a reminder that so many of my “friends for life” are thousands of miles away.  Some of them I haven’t seen in decades!  That’s just not right.

So while I mourn the loss of one of my former stage-mates, I celebrate how it has opened my eyes.  It’s a Goddamned cliché, but life is too short, and I’ve got lots of catching up to do!

Sara Marie – another college chum, posted this on my FB message – which I posted right after I found out.  “God I wish we could all be together right now.”

Yup.

RIP, Gus.