They say that death and taxes are the only two things in this world that are guaranteed to us in this lifetime. It doesn't matter how safe you play the game or how dangerously you live on the edge, we are born knowing that someday, you and I are going to eventually die. It's a terrifying notion to accept, one made only worse by the fact that we never quite know when our time is up. Whether you believe it to be part of God's greater plan or whether you simply believe in fate, there's no way of escaping the inevitable hinges of deaths door. But just because we are born with this unwanted promise doesn't make it any easier when we are faced with the loss of a loved one, especially when it happens so suddenly.
Every now and then, our city suffers a loss so great that it calls for mass mourning. Whether it's a structure that once stood tall and proud or a person that touched the lives of so many with his sincerity and spirit, the thought of something or someone being permanently gone is a paralyzing one. It makes you think about life and how important it is to be kind to yourself every day. To appreciate this gift and live every second with passion and vigor. What kind of footprint do we want to leave behind and how do we want to be remembered when we go?
As I logged onto the social news bulletin known as facebook, I was shocked to discover that the world had lost one of the most beautiful souls I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Floods of "R.I.P." messages began pouring onto my feed, tributes and condolences to a man that I once fell head over heels in love with. I was consumed with disbelief and denial. It felt like only yesterday that we had been enjoying a glass of red (as everyone knows, his signature drink) with this precious being, catching up on the years that separated us and having a smoke and a laugh at the local pub down the road. It seemed so surreal, so sad and so sudden.
I was only 19 years old when I first met Trev at a complex in Sandown which I aptly dubbed Melrose Place. I can't even remember how we met but knowing Trev, it must have been through some amazing night of dancing and drinking red wine. Although I was partly obsessed with his room mate at the time, a man whose heart had already belonged to another, it was Trev who constantly made me smile. I remember his affinity for anything ABBA, and the first time he introduced me to the real queens of pop like Cher and Madonna (vintage only). He was essentially my late 90's and opened his heart to me with as much gusto as the next bottle of wine or pack of cigarettes.
I'll never forget the night I fell in love with him. Let's face it. It's hard not to. We had all gone out to the Bronx one Friday night and he had worn an all white outfit consisting of a white jacket and white trousers that he thought was the best thing since sliced bread. Fashion is fashion. Style is style, and Trev certainly had style. It was one of those nights where one of my many attempts of getting his room mate to fall in love with me had failed dismally, and so I took comfort in Trev's fun loving (and fun living) world.
We danced to Cher's "Believe" and drank copious amounts of red wine and Hunter's Dry. We both had little side satchels in the day, the ultimate accessory to surviving the clubs of the late 90's and early noughties. I remember how he would always have just a slight tinge of rouge around his lips and teeth when he'd had one too many. But he couldn't give two fucks. Even when some callous queen knocked over his drink sending it ricocheting across his angelic ensemble, Trev still remained cool, calm and collected. As we stood in a pool of Cabernet Savignon, all we could do was laugh.
I remember the perfect cure to the next day's hangover would be to watch back to back episodes of Patsy and Eddie's outlandish adventures in AbFab. I knew then and there that I'd found a friend of quality and not quantity. As the years went by and our encounters became less and less, seeing him was always like taking a holiday for the soul. His warm, wicked smile and amazing sense of humour was always welcomed. He was eternally optimistic about everything and probably the most consistent human being I had ever had the privilege to meet.
We all fear the unknown and the point of no return to some extent, whether it's the finality and permanence that comes with death or the fear of leaving this earth with a unexceptional impression. We all want to leave a part of us behind, a legacy that's memorable and a life that was lived with love. Well my dear friend Trev who left this earth far too quickly too soon was a shining example of what legends are made of. It shows by the number of people whose lives and hearts he touched, and who are all so deeply saddened by this loss. His memory lives on with every bottle of red I open, with every AdFab rerun I'm bound to watch, but most of all, through every ABBA song I have yet to dance to. Thank you for the music friend. You will be missed.
When it comes to life and living it to the fullest, why do the good ones always have to go first?
This blog is dedicated to and in loving memory of one of the very first men I ever loved. My condolences to you and your family during this difficult and heartbreaking time. Trevor, may you find peace in the heavens above dancing to ABBA and being absolutely fabulous. They sure are the lucky ones now.