On August 22, 2013, my best friend and brother, Jake Brice, died, at 17 years old.
Sometimes I can accept it, because ten years is a long time, and a lot has happened since then. When I look at it like that, it all feels so long ago. I don’t get too emotional, because I’m used to life without having him around.
Other times, however, these last ten years seem like days. I can remember the hours long conversations we would have about Tarantino (Pulp Fiction was his favorite movie), Breaking Bad (a show he got me into, and missed the ending of by only six episodes), SpongeBob, South Park, Nostalgia Critic, Star Wars, The Dark Knight, The MCU, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, The Office, Samuel L. Jackson, Robin Williams, our dogs (Riley & T-Bone), girls we liked, people we found annoying, and most importantly, the future films we were going to make together, as if they all happened that morning.
Those are the thoughts I try to avoid because the truth is, I don’t always like thinking about them. They make me feel sad, angry, and anxious.
I get angry when I think about how difficult his short life was, and the constant hurdles he always had to overcome. But at the same time, when I think about all of that, it makes me realize just how special and strong he was in his short time here.
Anyone who knew Jake will tell you that he was not your average kid. His dry humor, empathy, and sarcastic wit, made him a young man trapped in the body of a sick child. I sometimes think I don’t have to guess what he would be like grown up, because he was already so mature for his age. I feel like I knew the 40 year old man when I would talk to the 14 year old boy.
There won’t be a day that I will ever understand why we lost Jake, but I accept it. I can be mature enough to realize that life is full of moments we will never understand, and the more we try, the more frustrating it can be. That’s why the last stage of grief is acceptance, not understanding.
With that being said, acceptance has never been easy. I spent a lot of bad nights, with disturbing thoughts and memories, trying to come to terms with all of it. But when I look back on these last ten years, I think the reason I can accept his passing is because he’s still so present in my life now.
So many of the things I have grown up with, my greatest memories that have shaped the person I already am (and am still becoming) are because he was there. He introduced me to friends, movies, TV, writing, jokes, all of which are still a part of me.
My urge to write, and create, is based on promises I made to him, and they allow me to feel closer to him. I still talk to him, whenever I feel like I need the boost, and I like to think that he guides me in the right direction.
No matter what I do today, writing this, sharing memories, photos, videos, it never feels like enough. Nothing outside of bringing him back to life can fill that void (Jake’s dark sense of humor would have thought that comment was hilarious by the way). All I can do is hope I’ve made him proud so far, and continue to do that with the rest of my life.
While the time was short, it was so great, and that isn’t the kind of relationship a lot of people ever have in their lives. So for that, I am grateful.
2002...
2011...
Beautiful. He is smiling 🙏🏻