Hey Doug,

Eight years ago yesterday, we hung out for the very last time. We were in a Russian restaurant for your friend’s birthday. You were your usual joking self. Making fun of the waitresses, cracking me up – even putting a pig’s head on Christine’s plate. I had my normal cheek pains that night thanks to you – because my face hurt from laughing…

…but what I did not know was that less than 48 hours later – my cheeks would never hurt again – but instead – my heart would ache forever.

I dropped you off that morning, and to this day – I feel like I had a part in your death. I should have called in sick that day. I even would have prayed for a car accident. But instead, I can take to my grave the fact that I drove you to yours. Words cannot describe how sorry I am for that. I had no idea…

…I had no idea.

It’s been eight years. Life is different for me now. I live in New Jersey and work for the Army. I got married. Yes, I am serious. Her name is Julie and she was a member of the South Park Digest. You never met her – although I wish you did. It was a nice wedding, with one exception – I did not have you as a best man the way I was for you.

Beavis is good. He’s eight now. He is still doing all the things he has always done. Playing with his “ballie balls,” using the floor as a toilet – and hearing stories from me about the uncle he has never met. Julie and I watch wrestling every Monday. You were right by the way, Vince McMahon did buy WCW. I would have loved to see the look on your face when McMahon made Eric Bischoff the General Manager of RAW. That was a defining moment in the history of wrestling – and one I would have loved to share with you.

Julie and I are thinking of having children. If we have a girl, I want to name her “Penny” in honor of this column. If we have a boy – I was going to name him “Edward” in honor of my father. But now, I have decided to name him “Doug.” I can’t bring you back to life – I can’t even visit your grave because we had nothing to bury. But at least I can name my son after one of the greatest people I have ever known. A man who personified what it is to be a friend, a husband, a son, a brother – and a best friend. I only hope that I become half the man that you were. Sadly, the world has seemed to move on and forget what happened that tragic day…

…but rest assured – and in peace – that I never will.

I miss you. I think of you. I love you.

Your brother,

Paul

P.S. Meet me at the front gate when I get there.