There comes a point in your life when you realize that who you are as a person is a reflection of what you have done and who you have done it with.  Some people have simple tastes, simple thoughts, simple goals, and lead simple lives.  Joe was not a simple person.  Whether his courage was a result of nurture or nature I will probably never know but he lived large for a small-town boy.

I met and dated Joe in college, and we shared wonderful adventures.  I rode in my first muscle car that he may or may not have driven a little too fast, enjoyed my first sushi using chopsticks that he trained me to use (I still laugh recalling his stalwart patience), I took my first solo vacation adventure traveling thousands of miles to meet him on an island and I even drove from Vermont to Brooklyn every weekend for a year in my rusty old college car (before he introduced me to the delights of rail travel)so I could romp with him (oh dear lord the walking) the length and breadth of NYC.

Whether I was roller blading around Central Park, learning how to bake the perfect apple pie in Brattleboro, rock climbing in Killington, sharing ice cream on Church Street, hiking Vermont’s famous peaks, or sailing on Lake Champlain, I savored every moment with that man.  In the end I needed a simpler life than he had chosen so we parted as friends.  He was out there though and that was all I needed to know.

In the last 24 hours I have thought about this long and hard, and I have decided even though his adventure ended before mine, he is not really gone.  The way to properly use chopsticks lives on, the knowledge that Patagonia really is a superior clothing brand is still here, crazy cats will call him up, every time I see a stingray, use spray starch to crease pants, buy peanut butter or wear emeralds he will be there.  He was an amazing person, he brought me joy, he left me with tools to bear his passing and he will be missed. I am better, so much better, because of him andI will hold on tight to those parts of me, that are him.

Joe and I lived together for over 20 years.  It's hard to believe that prior to living together, we were complete strangers, brought together by roommates.com.  It's even harder to believe that Joe didn't exit stage left immediately after his comically disastrous first day in our home.  

After meeting once, Joe brought his couch and his rent check to me and then went back to his Huntington Beach apartment.  He had been given the keys and paid rent, so I had assumed he would be moving in any day, but days and then weeks passed and there was no Joe.  One day, some of my friends had arranged to go to a club together.  The club was closest to my house, so we would meet there, pre-party and then head for the club.  It was a theme club, and of course we would all be dressing for the occasion.  I was wearing dramatic bell bottom jeans and had done my hair and makeup in some dramatic fashion and was ready to party.  The door bell rang.  I threw open the door expecting to see one of my friends dressed in a similarly odd fashion, but instead, there stood Joe.  

I explained that this was not my normal attire and that we were going to a theme club, and apologized profusely that there would be friends coming over, all while Joe shrugged, smiled and tried to go about the business of hanging up curtains in his new furnished bedroom.  When the door bell rang again, I ran to answer the door, threw it open and was greeted by my friend (and later his friend) Donna, wearing a low cut shirt and bell bottom pants.  She walked into the house and immediately declared, "I can't go over to Sara's without my boobage hanging out."  I quickly shushed her, and told her my new roommate had shown up and then repeated this "greeting" quickly each time the doorbell rang.  

Each of my friends wanted to get a look at this new roommate, so they made excuses to go down the hallway passed his room and look in at him.  Some of them stopped and invited him to join us on our adventure, but each time, he explained that he needed to get moved in and told us to have fun.  

On the way out of the house, I told Joe once again how sorry I was about all this drama and assured him that I would be as quiet as a mouse when I came home, so that he would not be disturbed.

Many hours and many many drinks later, our group found ourselves in a predicament.  One friend had lost her car keys.  Several of us had left our keys, including my house keys, in her car, thus, we were left with 1 two-seater car, and several friends who could not get into their homes.  Drunk logic told us that the best course of action would be for us to go to my house and spend the night.  And, so, I find myself, standing outside the door to my house, ringing the doorbell and beating on the door crying, "Hey new roommate, let me in!"  

The door opened, and I began to profusely apologize for waking him up and trying to explain the situation, but once again, Joe just smiled and shrugged.  The party continued while trips were made back and forth to the club to retrieve the rest of the group, and we setup beds around the house and on Joe's couch.  

Once everybody had left the following morning, I apologized once again and asked Joe if he was going to move out.  In true Joe fashion, he looked at me quizzically and said "No.  Why?"  

For more than 20 years, Joe tolerated all of my shenanigans with the same patience and grace he illustrated on his first night.  He ate all of the meals I made for him, no matter how good or bad with a smile and he made our house my home.