My friend Bobbe Edmonds has died.
Jesus, fuck, it caught me flat-footed. He was about the same age as my son, and for the twenty-odd years I knew him, I called him “Kid.”
He kept his illness from me, and from most of his other friends, but it was something he had known about for a while, and thus had time to adjust to it. The announcement came from another close friend, who posted something Bobbe wrote ten days ago. Here’s the first line:
“At the risk of sounding more pretentious than I ever have in my life (and THAT’S saying something) – when you read this, I’ll be dead.”
I was stunned. I had no clue he was that ill. Kidney failure, and his choice to forego the tubes and machines and go out on his own terms. I understand why he didn’t tell me. He said as much in his final post: Better to bleed to death from a paper cut than to ask for a Band-aid.
I met him through martial arts connections — he studied silat in several places — and since it turned out he was a budding writer, I read his stuff and saw that he had potential, so I became a kind of mentor in that arena. I gave him advice, sometimes with a metaphorical whack upside the head, because he was good at it enough I didn’t need to pull my punches. He appreciated it, and said so.
He was smart, funny, opinionated, stubborn, dedicated to his art, and I liked him.
Once, we were keyboard warriors who stood against the forces of evil in the online Silat Wars. Sometimes, he shot himself in the foot, and said as much, but he fought the good fight.
If I need information for a scene in a book regarding zombies, curry, or Godzilla, Bobbe was my go-to guy. My most recent novel’s acknowledgments name him such once again.
He was raised rough, spent part of his youth in an awful institution. Over the years, he had his ups and downs, but he kept going and became a man worthy of respect.
I will miss him.
Seventeen or so years ago — probably for his fortieth — some of Bobbe’s friends hired an actor to deliver a singing birthday greeting — an actor dressed as The Reaper. There are people I know who would be appalled at me posting a screen capture of that scene, but Bobbe would not be among them. He’d laugh his ass off.
Wherever you are, Kid, you meant something to people while you were here, and number me high among them.
We’ll not see your like again.
