Losing A Friend
This hurts so much to write. My fraternity brother and friend, Anuj Mohan, died last night. He was 29 years old. A week ago he was found unconscious in the swimming pool at his apartment complex. He was revived, but flatlined en route to the hospital and remained in a coma for a week before he passed away. He only learned to swim while at MIT, and was trying to become a stronger swimmer this summer while on break from earning his MBA at Wharton. This is so unfair and senseless and tragic, I can’t even begin to understand it.

Anuj never failed to see the good in me, even on those numerous occasions where I made that task extremely difficult. He was the most calm, easygoing, and levelheaded person.

I’m not sure I realize yet that I’ll never hear his laugh again, this goofy bellow that would either make you smile or laugh in response, no matter how sad or angry you had been just before.

He was my friend from my first days in the house, and lived next door to me for 2 years, and there are so many things I hope I remember as clearly as I once did. His tone deaf singing competing with my limited vocal range to drive Cargol crazy in the other room in that hallway. Going with me to see Wilco at the Avalon, and after the concert coming back to the house and raiding the fridge in the kitchen, listening to Wilco CDs on Bob Mac’s stereo. His first few driving lessons in my Jeep, with his girlfriend Flo in the back seat and me riding shotgun, both of us encouraging him around the parking lot on the other side of the StarMarket. Chilling out in the TV room so often, watching SportsCenter, baseball, and football (I remember both of us turning to look at each other with "holy shit" expressions on our faces after an amazing 70 yard pass by an unknown sophomore quarterback at Virginia Tech named Michael Vick during a Thursday night game). The time we sat down (along with Nelson) to watch the All-Star Game home run derby at Fenway, realized it was happening only a mile or so away, rushed upstairs, grabbed our gloves, and ran to Lansdowne Street to be in the crush behind the Green Monster and witness McGwire’s and Sosa’s ridiculous blasts. The many weekend afternoon hangover-helper meals at Mandarin, Golden Donut, or one of the Indian places in Central Square, where he once made a mess demonstrating how folks back home use their hands to ball up curry and rice when there’s no fork to be had.

His M.Eng. year he went home to India over the winter break, and brought back gifts for a bunch of us. On trains and planes, from halfway around the world, he lugged back a ceramic Laughing Buddha for me. Since then, every day I rub its belly on my way out the door, looking for all the good luck I can get. Tomorrow, and for some time after that, I know that’s going to make me sad. Eventually, even though I’m always going to miss him, that’s going to make me smile.

The last time I saw him was when I was out in the Bay Area for a conference last year. I can’t remember now if it all happened over two separate days or only one, but he showed me San Francisco, down Lombard Street, up Nob Hill, North Beach, Haight-Ashbury, the Palace of the Legion of Honor, beating up his car’s transmission in the process. We walked out on the Golden Gate Bridge, and hiked a little bit up in the Marin Headlands, where I broke a small piece of rock off the cliff at the roadside as a memento of my trip. We met up with Flo in Berkeley, she showed us the campus, and we sneaked into Memorial Stadium so I could run around the stands like an idiot. Somehow I convinced them to walk around Berkeley Hills with me, where my Zen exploring promptly got us lost, but of course Anuj only laughed about it. We ended up having dinner at a little restaurant near the campus, and they dropped me off at the downtown Berkeley BART station so I could head back to my hotel across the bay. It never occurred to me that would be the last time I’d see him. If there has to be a final memory, though, that’s an exceptional one, it was a great weekend.

About the only positive thing that I can come up with at the moment is that he’s not really gone. I am a better man because he was my friend. The same goes for everyone who has known him. We each carry a bit of him with us, and that total sum is immeasurable.
- posted by Liebs @ 8:55 PM