Earlier this week, I attended the wake of my friend, P’s boyfriend. I never knew him, aside from a brief meeting before a watching a show we had both been waiting for, and I wish I had made an effort to get to know him. P, on the other hand, I spent most of my last two years of high school and a large part of my first few semesters in college with.

I don’t know P’s boyfriend, apart from her stories and all the things I’ve been reading about him after the fact. All I know is that he was a good guy, no, a great guy. He was, for the lack of a different phrase, pretty fucking perfect for P. I know he liked words and music, and that he loved to skate… and though those things seem too vague to go by on when you construct a stranger in your head, I feel like I got to know enough of him when I see P and how much better she is after having met him.

(It’s so easy to make this loss completely about me, but I promise that I’m not trying to do that.)

I am writing about this guy I never really knew because he made someone I care about unequivocally happy. And when you see that so clearly in just a handful of posts, or in the way she carries herself, or in how much she has grown in the many years that you’ve known her, then I find that it’s something worth celebrating.

This is such a paltry tribute to someone awesome that I wish I got to know. He made my friend happy and he made her feel loved, and I am so, so grateful for that. Thank you for being what she needed and what she wanted. I hope you felt how much she loved you, too.