“You’re one of my top three favorite people.” He said this to me almost every time I saw him. He had a way of making everyone he liked feel special in his presence. Something tells me that there were hundreds of other people who fell into his Top-3-List. I can see his wide eyes, and perfect, white smile when I think of the greeting I received at every face-to-face encounter. Except for the one time he sent me a nasty text message, likely after too much vodka or Veuve. It wasn’t well received. I blocked his number. Eventually he apologized, and won me over with his “top three favorite” proclamation. And just like that, we were friends again.
I should let you know early in this story, it does not have a happy ending. It’s quite sad and devastating actually. I haven’t written in many months. Call it writer’s block. Call it a busy schedule. Call it a million excuses. But I never thought that after my seven-month sabbatical from writing, THIS would be the story I would tell. These were not the words I was supposed to write. I wanted my litterateur awakening to inspire, not to teach a lesson through someone else’s pain. But here I am, sitting at my kitchen island, with my mind caught between the truth and what I wish was a cruel hoax.
The truth.
How do I write the truth when I only have a glimpse into someone else’s story? And who I am I to write that story when I’m only one of hundreds in the “top three list?” He always told me that I was a great writer, insightful, and smart. He supported the release of my book, and bought copies for all of his friends. So for this story, I will let my writing and insight carry me to the final word.
The truth.
We met almost two decades ago. I was dining at some hipster establishment in the Ohio City section of Cleveland with a friend. Somewhere between a bite of Capicola pizza, and reaching for a sip of Chianti, an impeccably dressed man and his beautiful girlfriend joined our table. Like a man who knew no strangers (I should add that he was a friend of my dinner companion), he sat beside me, asked what I was drinking, and ordered two more bottles of red for the table. He introduced himself with a firm, friendly handshake, and within minutes, I felt like I made a lifelong friend. Some people just have that way about them. He had that way about him. When dinner was finished, he paid the bill (our bill), even though he never ate a bite of the food, and only sipped on a vodka soda. He was generous that way. And it was always unnecessary in my eyes. But I came to learn that he wouldn’t have it any other way. Some called it showy. Others called it generous. I would simple say, that was his way. That meeting was our first introduction. From there, we became friends. Not friends who would talk every day, or go out for drinks regularly. But friends who would catch up from time to time. It was a platonic friendship. And it was filled with quality time spent talking about life, hopes, dreams, and goals; all the while, I would psycho-analyze him with my not-PhD. My curiosity didn’t go unnoticed, as he would often say that I was the “best interviewer” he’d known after opening up about topics he never planned to discuss.
The truth.
Years passed. We both fell in and out of personal relationships, and stumbled through life’s challenges. But it became clear that the vibrant, happy man I met years before, was carrying torment somewhere inside. Yes, he would still smile, laugh, and sing a tune at Johnny’s downtown. Yes, he would still act, to be the life of the party. Yes, he would seemingly live a life that many would covet; from first class world travel, to custom-made suits, to occupying trendy living spaces, to VIP treatment. But there were undertones of sadness. Over time, those undertones became rippling currents, giving way to strong undercurrents. Currents that became too difficult to swim against. To some, the pain was obvious as they observed him up close, or from afar through the social channels. While others may have missed the signals that were a cry for help. In the end, the signals crossed, and the currents pulled him under.
The truth.
Many people make the mistake of believing that achievement is greater than fulfillment. As human beings we need to feel fulfillment to feed our souls. Accolades, money, and praise are nice, but fleeting. Robin Williams made the world laugh. He achieved the highest level of success in his profession. But he was in pain. A pain that for him, was too great to bear. Ernest Hemingway is considered one of the greatest literary writers of all time. He won both the Pulitzer Prize and Nobel Prize. But a mind that created brilliance, ultimately turned against him. Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain created a movement through his music. But his lyrics also told the stories of his inner demons. While living, each man was considered successful to the outside world. Achievement, in and of itself, does not equal pain. But there’s so much more below the surface of a person. Sometimes we miss the painful cues that are masked by exciting appearances.
The truth.
I saw the cues 100 times. I became accustomed to the cues. I wish for my friend’s sake that life gave us a do-over for the 101st cue.
His name was David.
He was larger than life. He did everything big, from the good to the not-always-good. And I think he’d sign off on all that I’m writing. His storyline was filled with grandeur, excitement, explosiveness, heartbreak, love, and a desire to please others. He was a showman. He knew how to entertain. If there was a Real House-Life of Cleveland, he was it. He was the star. His story was in constant motion, and so alive. For those who knew him, and many did, it’s hard to believe that his story has ended. Rest well, friend to many, rest well.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255.
So sad, so sorry!
Woke up to this very sad news, Andrea. Thank you for writing and sharing on this painful subject. May David Rest In Peace and his friends and family find comfort in the live that hopefully surrounds them andcsustains them through this difficult time.
Andrea this is so beautifully written. I didn’t know David but his story needs to be told and shared and remembered. Thank you for reminding us all that we have no idea what is happening with someone beneath the surface and everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about. Rest in Peace David.
Thank you so much Tammy… You’re right, it’s important to recognize that there are so many layers to us as human beings… there are a lot of people in pain… and while we cannot fight their battle, we can show compassion and empathy.
Your talent as a writer equals your talent as an analyst of human character…very beautifully written Andrea about a man who was my friend and has left a terrible emptiness in this city…I hope this inspires others to get help, I hope and pray Davids life was not a total loss…
Thank you Terry… the emptiness will be felt for a long time in our city… David was so full of life… hugs to you. xxoo
Sorry for your loss
Andrea, thank you for your words, it will help comfort many. David is smiling down on you I’m sure.
Thank you Nicole… I do hope there will be comfort in these words… such a difficult time. And I agree with you, I do believe David is smiling that big, white smile.
Thank you for this, it’s just beautiful. He will be dearly missed.
So missed, he will be so missed…
Thank you Lauren.
Thank you for writing this insightful and beautiful piece. May his soul finally find peace.
An extremely sad ending..for all that knew him..I only met him a few times..we talked about automotive industry & also sang around the piano…I have always said ” you never really know someone as you cant get inside their head” Thinfs are notalways what they seem…sadly..
Singing around the piano at Johnny’s was one of his favorite things to do… music, people, laughter… those were always good times!
Beautifully writen and so true for many! Thank you for sharing Andrea.
Sadly never met him but was a friend of some of my friends. Your writing is incredible and what a beautiful tribute.
I knew David for a few years now, he was a wonderful guy always the life of the party Always a smile that lit up the room. Beautiful piece Andrea. Beautiful Life David. Gone to soon but will be remembered for a long time. You never know what a person is going through. Be kind and positive to others you just don’t ever know what that person is going through. RIP DHF
that was really beautiful writing Andrea. I am so very sorry for your loss. I so agree with Terry. You have depicted the pain, the love, the joy and sorrow…..the true awe of what this man must have embodied to you and many others. What a gift he had in your friendship. My heart breaks for your loss and for others touched by it too.
Thank you Andrea. I know there are many family and friends struggling with this one. It’s incredible to hear from and see so many people paying tribute to a man who brought so much energy to people’s lives.
The city isn’t the same. He will be greatly missed.
You have huge guts to write this. People need to hear it. You never know what someone is going through. So sad. So sad. Sorry for your loss.
My best friend growing up killed himself. He had gotten strung out on crack. Was on street. My brother and I talked about going out to find him but never did.
Sat at his funeral with huge regrets. All 3 of us were like brothers.
Signs were there too. Hard to see.
Andrea- I feel you captured David’s essence beautifully…he felt alive for a moment while reading this…thank you for writing this..
Wow, that means so much to me to read your comment Molly, thank you. I was hoping to capture his essence… there’s so much to say… I know we’re all still in disbelief.
What a beautiful tribute to David Frame! He was correct…you are a beautiful writer! Thank you for sharing! ?
Thank you so much Dawn! This one was difficult to write, even though the words came so easily.
This was so well written! Thank you for sharing. I knew David for about 7 years and while we knew each other from work and lived in different cities, we’d always get together for a drink or dinner when I was in town. I got to meet his friends and go to great places. He was so much fun and I’m so sad by this news. I haven’t worked with him in years but knew if I ever found myself in Cleveland I could have reached out to him to grab lunch and catch up. I’m thinking of his family and friends.
And anytime you reached out to him, no doubt, he would roll out the red carpet! He was so generous that way. Thank you for your comment Amy, it’s good to hear from other people who were touched by his life.
David was a childhood friend. Although, we knew him as “Heath”. I have been at a loss for words since I heard the news. Devastated is probably more like it. Thank you for your beautiful article. I hope he has found peace.
Heath :)… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry for the loss of your childhood friend… I know this one cuts deep.
Thanks for writing this Andrea.
We all loved him so much. This is absolutely beautiful and 100% him Andrea.
We did, we really did…thank you so much Chell.
This is beautiful Andrea. You captured the essence of David perfectly. I laughed and cried while reading this. I have so many of the same memories of him. Thank you for writing this. I’ll miss you forever Sir. ?
Oh Brandy, I share those laughs and cries with you. I know how much David meant to you. He’s already missed in so many ways. Thank you for reading this and letting me know that you connected with these memories and feelings too. xo