How do you talk to an angel?

This will be the most difficult blog post I've ever had to write.
One week ago we lost one of the greatest individuals a person could be blessed knowing. Brian Holland was not your typical friend. He was a special spirit, someone who could always make you laugh and who always took you under his wing and made you feel welcome, included and loved.
A number of people have said to me that the best way for me to help deal with my grief would be to write about him. I've begun this blog post three times, and each time I've had to stop, erase it and walk away. But I know that to process this all, I was going to have to finish it.
So that's what I'm doing.
Brian was cherished by every person he met. No one could ever have anything bad or negative to say about him. For awhile I've been wracking my brain trying to remember the first time we met, and for the life of me I couldn't recall. Then I remembered, and knew that the reason I was having such a difficult time remembering was because with Brian, he just entered your life so effortlessly that he seemed like he'd known you all of his life.
Brian and I met over laughter. About 8 years ago, we were in a bar and we'd never met before. In fact, we weren't even standing near one another. Then something happened to someone in the bar and we both laughed - and only us. Not a big deal, but most people say that I have an infectious laugh. And I'd come across another person who had an infectious laugh as well. So somehow we ended up near each other and just looked at each other and laughed uncontrollably.
Thus began my friendship with Brian. Laughter brought us together, and we've been close friends ever since.
He was a sweet soul, and he brought that out in me. A good number of people do have the opinion that I'm sort of a Pollyanna, that I see the world through rose-colored glasses. Brian allowed me to be that way, even though I felt like most others were not a fan of my "cute optimism". He was perfectly fine with it because he, himself, was the same way.
I'd come to the Game Nights he held with his housemate Gary occasionally when I could get off of work, and I'd hang out with Brian at the bars/clubs. It was always fun. I'd even started working with Brian in May.
But I think what bonded us the most was our jukebox sessions. So many nights over the years Brian and I would hang out and overtake the jukebox, playing '80s songs, dancing and singing at the top of our lungs. He could always match me word-for-word, and would just have an absolute blast.
In fact, that is what we did the night before he died. Brian and I hung out and had one of our jukebox sessions. We hung out all night doing exactly that, laughing, singing and dancing to the jukebox.
Then Brian left. And that was the last moment I would ever see my dear, sweet friend, one of the best friends I have ever had.
(Editor's note: I started this blog last week - as you may know by the second line referencing "one week ago". Up until this last line, I had to leave my computer and pick the blog up again today. I believe I can finish it now.)
Now I don't want this to be a sad post, because Brian would be very upset if he knew this blog post made anyone cry. I've done a lot of crying, as have many of us. Some have been beating themselves up internally because this man was such a huge part of our lives. Some have wished that they had made certain that he knew how much he was cherished by you.
I know, because I've been doing the same things.
But then I'd view some photos of the two of us laughing, acting crazy, singing, dancing, making funny photos outside of Georgies and a few other places. I'd lend solace and comforting words to others who were feeling lost without Brian. I'd try to make as many plans as possible with my friends and enjoy our time together.
And Brian was one of the best huggers I'd ever met. He never just hugged you; he squeezed his joy into you with one of his bear hugs. And he loved it when you did the same to him. Brian knew the power of a hug, and that, among other things about this kind soul, allowed happiness to spread.
Some already know this, but I've been kicking myself a lot that I didn't walk home with Brian that night. Also that I didn't keep my eye on him more that night, to make sure he was okay before he left. A few of us just got lost and lifted up in the music, singing and enjoyment. That's what we always did, and Brian loved that about our jukebox sessions - no worries, not a care in the world; just singing, dancing and having the time of our lives.
And Brian wouldn't have had it any other way - enjoying time with people. One of the reasons why I miss my dear friend so very much.
But if we can learn anything from knowing him, it's that he was a free spirit that loved to watch over everyone and make certain their time with friends was one they'd never forget. So let's continue that tradition, that liveliness in him that he spread out to all of us.
Make plans to spend time with your friends - and keep those plans as long it's humanly possible;
If a friend calls you or texts you, make certain you return their call or text as soon as possible;
If you see an acquaintance of yours out somewhere by themselves, make every effort to welcome them into your presence, because you may be making their time out that much more special;
Hug someone with the biggest and friendliest hug you can muster;
Tell your family and your family of friends how much you love them as often as possible;
And above all else, don't let anyone who is still hurting terribly over the loss of this great man suffer alone.
Brian and I also shared something very interesting - a special martini called the Purple Haze, created specially for us by our good friend David Hoffman. I haven't been able to bring myself to have one yet since Brian has passed, but hopefully very soon as a way to celebrate my love and adoration for him.
And also something that will always bring joy to me in remembering Brian - he was the first Prom Queen of my annual LGBTQ fundraiser the Pink Prom. David was voted Prom King. But the reason Brian will always hold a special place in my heart is probably because of what he said to me when he realized he was up for nomination. Being the humble man that he is, Brian pulled me aside and said, "I can't believe you have me down for queen ... I'll never win and it's a waste to have me in there because so many people are more deserving!"
That was Brian in a nutshell - always modest, humble and thinking about others before himself. He was a man I will never forget and will always love.
Rest in Peace, my dear sweet friend! You were one of my best friends and none of us will ever forget you!