Craig

The other night I went into a local bar to watch a band my friends are in. Stepping in, one of the bartenders came over to check our i.d. I had to use my passport, because my driver's permit is expired and no longer valid. He read through it, saying that his birthday is September 6 and commenting on our both being Virgos, then he pointed out that it said Virginia-he said he is moving there soon to rent a place. He introduced himself as Kyle and shook my hand.

We walked in and I looked over at him a few times after we had sat down and I realized he looked extremely similar to a guy I knew that used to come into the clinic where I worked.

About a week earlier I read in the paper that this guy had passed away mid-August. He used to come into the clinic often for new injuries and for an ongoing monitoring of his body's deterioration from alcoholism. The first day he came in, he introduced himself and was friendly to the point of flirtation. I was embarrassed by that, and to make me more nervous, right after his appointment was finished, the doctor came out with him and introduced us again, saying that he was an artist and that I am an artist so we should talk. From that point on every time he came into the clinic we would discuss art, he would ask about what art projects I had in school. At this clinic it wasn't rare for people to have to wait an hour or more for their appointment, waiting to be seen, so we had a lot of time to talk some days. He said he studied art at Western, maybe 10 years ago. He was in his 30s. And he would tell me about how he had been painting all morning. He explained himself as a loner who spent most of his time with his dog, that he clearly absolutely loved, and painting in his room. But he was a kind-hearted and friendly guy so I can't imagine he actually was a loner.

A few times I ran into him outside the clinic and chatted with him on the bus or in the grocery store. I was always excited to see him because every time he seemed genuinely happy to see me too and he always had some crazy story to share, usually of how he got injured that week.
One of the days he came in to the clinic he had his art portfolio with him, so he showed it to me. His work was clearly emotional, each piece done with what felt like a heavy stroke. Most of his paintings were also dark. I remember one that was almost futuristic with 3d appearing shiny balls in the foreground, placed equally apart all across the canvas, and a background of a grid behind them. They all had a lot of depth and layer upon layer of marks.

Another day he came in excited, telling everyone in the clinic that he was putting on an art show at a local night club. He was disappointed to find out I couldn't go, and I was probably even more so. He said he would try getting me in to see it one time, but that didn't work out. Instead, a couple weeks after he had mentioned the show, I came in to work and saw that he had been in earlier in the day. There was a package of photographs sitting on my desk that said "for Carissa" on the top. They were photos of each piece of artwork that he had on show.
I wanted to keep them, but I thought he might need them later on, especially because he told us he had sold many of them. I left the package on the desk and didn't return to work until my next scheduled day the next week. The package was gone, so I'm assuming it got back to him. I'm not sure though, and I regret not having taken them with me as I had wanted to.

Anyway, when I went to speak with the guy who looked like him, I said "Did you know a guy by the name of Craig?" and his face went flat and he replied "He was my twin brother." For some reason, even though Craig had mentioned it, and it was in the article on his death, I hadn't thought about the fact that he had a twin brother and felt horrible. I briefly began to explain to this guy why and how I knew his brother, trying to justify my reason for asking him. He looked like he could burst into tears and I immediately asked if I could give him a hug. We hugged for a moment, and I can honestly say I could feel his pain. After that I began weeping, unable to control the emotions like he must be learning to be able to do. I went outside and cried, and a friend of mine came out to talk with me. Then I saw that the guy came out to calm down, over to the side.

The reality of Craig's death didn't hit me until that night. The reminder that there was this great, loving guy that I knew made me so sad. And on top of that, seeing that he has a twin brother who's left behind, makes it that much worse. I just hope that his twin's plan to move to Virginia helps him in the grieving process. I can't imagine how difficult it would be to still live in Bellingham, where he must come across mutual friends constantly.

I had no idea it would be this hard to cope with a friend's death. I did and do consider Craig a friend even though I was just a receptionist at the clinic where he came. We had art that allowed us to connect and become friends. I'm sad that he is gone, and I'm sad for all of the people who are left here to miss him.