I remember him how everyone is remembered once they’re dead; in stories you tell at a dinner party.
When Michael was seven, Patrick set up his first email address. It was used for their correspondance alone.
"Hey Mikey,
I say we get a six-pack of beer from the liquor store and then plunk ourselves down on the beach and whistle at pretty girls. What do you think, buddy?
Patrick"
Michael and I idolized him. He was the only grown-up we knew that was good at playing. Looking back, I realize he always did better with kids. Some part of him was unfinished, filled with boundless energy, restrained around people his own age.
As a child, there is no one that makes you feel so special as an adult who treats you like a friend.
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