Eric was a great guy. You hear this all the time in eulogies. I always felt the statement was a bit hypocrical... you know, who would say bad things about someone who passed away. But when I say this about Eric, I mean it in the sincerest way possible. He was great! though, I would have to admit that I don't know him well enough... But then that would be on me, wouldn't it? What would be enough, really? I guess this means, the dissatisfaction is a product of knowing that there was something more to Eric. And even in my limited memories, you will always be more.

Eric was the first to strike conversation that started our friendship. I will give him that, if he would take it. He spoke briefly about my English, which he felt was better than he expected. To be honest, I had a nagging feeling that I should be offended, but I wasn't. Not really, because what came after the comment is a genuine praise to his colleugue at work who happened to be Filipino who had a less than desirable English fluency, but he cared about them, thought they were courageous, and for him, were inspirations about aspiration and effort. Eric did give strange, vague racist comments that I thought were more playful than hurtful, like when I offered him a pocky and told me, "I knew it! You ARE Asian!" with a genuine smile as he received it with a rather patronizing bow. Ah, you were somewhat of , Eric... what the heck? But how thoughtful you were about the East, and how involved you were when speaking about my education... you liked hearing about my Chinese heritage, and genuinely sought to know more about our history. You lived in your head, and I never thought that was bad because I lived in mine, and you equally thought it was a good place to be. You told me that being social was hard work, and I agreed, though, did I ever tell you, speaking with you... well, it was never a chore.

I never knew much about your problems, only the shallow ones like how you felt life was a bit tedious, and how you resent capitalism and needing money to settle your infinitely curious mind. Or how your dad's dogs kept you up, and how you wanted to get out of that house because you hated your father... you never wanted to poke at your scabbed wounds, so as a salve I would offer you mine. I hate my father too. You don't need to tell me. Did you know that was why I never asked? Because I knew, from a stand point of an abused child? It wasn't out of negligence. I cared about you more than I had ever expressed. When I think about you, I always think of the stupid nuts that you share, or dried fruit, or that time when you said, "I stopped eating solid food." and how contemplative you were when I disapproved of your decision. I told you that can't be healthy. You said you'd think about it. You were an odd one, but always I felt like I have come upon this gem of a person and I am and will always be grateful that you showed me how you shine.

You had this chance to be published, and you were excited for a time, until you gave up on it. I never really understood that, but I didn't nag you... only because I felt it was your talent you chose to hide and you deserved to be obscure if you wanted that. But now that you're gone, I think about this opportunity that you let slide. Maybe I should just believe that you never needed the validation. That me wanting people to know how great your mind is, is my want and not yours.

Eric was a great guy... I think you had beautiful mind and genuine heart, and though I will never get to know you enough, I still think that I was lucky to know what little I do about you... and now I know I must move on in a life that you will not exist and it hurts me deeply, to know all of the things you wanted in life. To write that book, to have that family, to have a place in the world where you soul can expand and be filled with contentment. And I will always be resentful for the things that you can no longer have and when I meet a I would always think why it wasn't you who lived instead... and I would have to deal with that. I want you to know, you have touched my life. You made an impression.

And the best thing you ever gave me is your ingenuity. Your honesty. Your compassion. Your dreams. As I went by my day today, I started crying on the bus, after a rather inappropriate loud chuckle. Ah... I have moved on, I thought, but then I knew I haven't and even if I do, if I one day forget you and your wonderful soul, please forgive my mortal mind because in my soul, I knew you are eternally my friend, my comrade who I will always wish well, even if that wish never gets fulfilled.

Your dreams that never came true, I will always think was injustice... and if I ever meet you at the end, at an afterlife, if there is one, let's talk about what could have been if you had the chance or if I was a bit braver. Let's trade big dreams that remained dreams for a mortal limitations. You were great Eric. You were. You will always be.

I will miss you. I will. Even if I forget... I will always be missing you.

To dreams that never came true. To possibilities that never came to life.

And in death, you remain great. Love you, my lost friend.