To Brandon, a best friend
Growing up sucks. Losing pieces of your childhood to the mundate reality that is adulthood is lame. But, the lasting friends and memories you make along the way make growing up and transitioning away from your childhood so worth it. There are just certain jokes and moments that we share with exceptional people that essentially etch their own marks into our life stones. One of those people in my life was Brandon DiFabio, a best friend, who recently passed away a few days ago.
Middle school is such a rough time for kids. We're growing into our bodies, attempting to navigate the transitional period between elementary and high school, getting used to new teachers, all while trying to avoid running the mile in gym class. At least, I was.
It's during these years when we also establish our go-to packs of friends. These friends, often times, are the ones that stick by us the rest of the way through high school, graduation, and beyond... And the best part of middle school friends is; you don't choose to get close, it just happens.
My best friend and neighborhood buddy in middle school was Brandon.
He only lived a few blocks from me, easily a five minute bike ride away. In a neighborhood of mostly elderly people, it was cool to have a kid like Brandon around. I mean, he wasn't seventy years old and didn't offer me caramel candies, so he was already way ahead of the pack.
He lived with his mom, stepdad, and stepbrother and was usually down to hangout almost every day after school. We bonded over dumb ideas, professional wrestling, and making each other laugh.
So, learning of his passing over the course of a couple of days last weekend really hit me. Usually, I handle death fairly well, as I believe I have really come to terms with it. We all live and we all die, it's a natural process and ultimately unavoidable. In my mind, when someone passes, it's time to celebrate the memories we shared with those people. Those are what last forever. The experience of loss has been like this for me as long as I can remember.
Though, that wasn't my first feeling with Brandon.
As I laid on a dog-friendly stretch of beachline on Florida's east coast, I felt empty. I couldn't focus on or enjoy my moment in the here and now that was this sunny Sunday in January. I was clouded with emotion, yet numb with the feeling of loss. And guilt.
Brandon and I hadn't spoken in a number of years, due to life unfolding, him starting a family, and a huge move I made two years ago from Syracuse, New York to Orlando, Florida.
So, I immediately reached out to a mutual friend we shared, Jesse Dupra, when I heard the news. Jesse and I ran in the same Mattydale circle, the same kids Brandon and I grew up with in our neighborhood.
I found myself desperately needing to reach out to Brandon's father, George, who I spent many a weekend with growing up. Brandon would visit his dad on the weekends, and I'd be invited to go along.
Jesse, who had remained close with Brandon throughout the years, was able to get me the number I needed to make the call to George and I couldn't thank him enough for that.
With the number, I found a sandy bench near the beach's parking lot where it was quieter, sat down, and dialed. I wasn't expecting an answer, because when someone passes, phones seem to ring off the hook with people you may or may not want to talk to. An unknown number usually means the latter.
It rang a few times, and as I prepared a voicemail in my head, George picked up on the other end and we shared a brief, but meaningful conversation. I was able to send my condolences to the family and ultimately, I felt better. It was then when the memories finally rushed back.
They came to me so heavily, that I nearly forgot just how much time Brandon and I had spent together growing up. A specifica handful came back, all with a similar theme; Just plain funny.
So, I scribbled them down because I knew I wanted to share a few...
Brandon and I would spend time coming up with funny voices to use to make each other laugh or mock certain things we found dumb. One of our favorites, was the voice of an Englishman-turned-mutant, half-man half-mosquito, named the 'Mansquito'.
We would spend hours late, late at night when we were supposed to be sleeping peeling out a phonebook and calling down the list of local McDonald's as the Mansquito himself. We would demand prosperous refreshments and delectable burger sandwiches.
Then I remembered that some nights at his mom's house his older stepbrother, Patrick, would join in as some of our favorite wrestling personalities and really bust our guts as the night turned into morning!
We all loved a good prank.
In fact, we probably terrorized the neighborhood. Thinking back, I can causally remember putting fart bombs in people's mailboxes and doubling over with laughter when Brandon would mimic the noises the bombs made when they exploded inside some of the metal mailboxes.
We were always looking to crack one another up, literally!
I can vividly remember us riding down the side of Malden road one time after school on our bikes (me on an old school Mongoose and Brandon on a super cool Diamondback that I was jealous of) This time, Brandon and I spotted a local politician signboard in support of Joanie Mahoney in someone's front yard and got a funny idea in the moment.
I told Brandon, who was riding ahead of me, to run the sign over. To which, he kindly obliged and then some. Not only did he run it over, it got pulled out of the ground and one of the forks got stuck in his back right peg.
As Brandon sped up and the sign dragged on the sidewalk, he suddenly slowed down with busy traffic looking on, pulled his jeans down around his ass, stood on his pedals and yelled "Joanie Mahoney THIS!" in one of our dumb voices. He continued to stand and pedal with his ass out as a few cars beeped and I nearly pissed my pants with laughter.
Perhaps, the topper was our Carriage rides, though.
The Carriagers were a smaller group of us neighborhood kids. Ryan Murtaugh, Alex Massey, Zach Crossman, Brandon DiFabio, and Austin Skinner made up the classy crew you saw as the featured image of this post. We look like a bunch of hooligans, and we were.
This was another lamebrain idea cooked up by Brandon and I, and was centered around a Little Tikes wagon we found in my parents garage. That, a pair of crooked skis, and two tiki torches later, was birthed a carriage of sorts that we decided we'd hook up to our bikes and take turns pulling each other in.
When running as 'King' (or the person sitting in the wagon), your goal was to hit as many items as you could with one of the loose ski poles we found. This included curbside cans, recycling bins, stop signs, and your friends riding on bikes to the side of you.
We'd holler and tear shit up, and Brandon always got stuck pulling my heavy ass when it was my turn as King.
I'm sure the mostly-elderly neighbor that we called home hated us. And Brandon hated me for being the overweight friend.
But, not all memories with Brandon were ridiculous, as I sat in the car ride home from the beach and continued to reminisce.
I recalled spaghetti dinners at Justin Ambriatti's house, basketball tournaments in Brandon's driveway, cruising around and exploring the forbidden spaces behind the old buildings of the Northern Lights Plaza with Ryan Murtaugh, and holding submission matches on his trampoline in the backyard (all of which I won, by the way). Now that I think of it, Brandon was the only one to tap me out with a rear naked choke... I think that was the closest I ever got to passing out.
I'd never admit that to him, of course.
Then, I specifically recalled the times I spent with Brandon while at his dad's house in Liverpool.
I'd spend those weekends attending local 2CW wrestling shows, some of the first local independent wrestling shows I had ever been to, with Brandon, his dad, and his uncle (who is also funny as shit).
I continued to support that wrestling promotion until it went under, all thanks to Brandon and George for bringing me. I was always curious, as Brandon would show me all these polaroids he had meeting wrestlers I was familiar with somewhere in a wrestling ring. So, the secret was out and 2CW was awesome.
As fans, we'd talk about our favorite guy, Isys Ephex (who Brandon once dressed as in a grey button down and pink tie one day in Tech. Ed. class), and Brandon would brag how close his dad was with the company and some of the wrestlers. He'll tell me how Brody Lee would hangout, or how Slyck Wagner Brown spent the night at his dad's house once.
Those were some fun times.
Lastly, I remembered how Brandon was the first kid to take me on a family vacation. Ironically, we came to Orlando, Florida with his dad and stepmom, Jerrie. She was super nice and it was her family that we planned to stay with once there.
We went for Universal Studios, but what I remembered best were the in between times. While staying with Aunt Phyllis, it was made clear by George and Jerrie that we should be on our best behavior, as according to them, she was very mean. Turns out, that was just a joke they played on us to get us to behave in this older woman's home.
We had brought Brandon's Xbox 360 and I can fondly remember us playing 50 Cent: Blood on the Sand, Saint's Row, and Def Jam Icon and thinking they were the coolest games ever.
One night after Universal, Brandon was exhausted and dozing next to me in the back seat. George asked if we wanted to swing into Sonic for a burger or anything before we headed home. Brandon, being half asleep and not wanting to be bothered, answered for us both before I could nudge him and tell him I was absolutely starving. Again, being an overweight kid...
We didn't get Sonic that night and I was pissed at DiFabio for that one!
I'll never forget that August summer haze and how we only made it to the end of the driveway before being drenched in sweat, or how Aunt Phyllis brought us grilled cheeses with tomato slices on them and how disappointed Brandon and I were thinking she meant she was bringing us grilled cheese and tomato soup!
Again, a food memory.
And to circle back, even now, when it is currently 1:30 AM while I type this out and I have to work in a few short hours, more and more memories rush back to me. I could tell stories with Brandon forever and for someone who can't remember events from yesterday, let alone almost 15 years ago, that's pretty cool.
I'll never forget the childhood Brandon and I shared at one of the most important developmental time of our lives. We shared music, movies, and hobbies, a lot of which I still enjoy to this day. Brandon was always a friend to me first. He kept his word, was a loyal friend, and knew just what dumb voice to use and when.
He was there for every Wrestlemania sleepover I had for my birthday, some of my first crushes, and just down the road when I needed some neighborhood bike time to get away.
I'll really miss him.
I regret not getting a chance to speak with Brandon the last couple of years, but I know he shared these memories and so many more.
All I can suggest to you the reader, is if you love someone and they were a great friend to you past or present, reach out. Drop them a line. Check in. Only the true people in our lives provide those marks on our stones of life. They're special.
As of late, Brandon became a dedicated and proud dad to a little boy, Jaxson. He lived closely with his mother Cori's and father Georgie's families and stepfamilies equally. Brandon seemed happy, healthy, and in a great spot in life.
I look forward to donating to his son Jaxson's trust fund that George has set up, and would be honored if anybody reading would do the same. Included below is the address where donations can be mailed, big or small.
To George, Jerrie, Cori, and Pat, my heart is with you.
To Jesse for connecting a bridge when I really needed it, thank you.
To Brandon, a best friend, peace.
Skinny loves you.
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