By Zack Newman

I am going to talk a bit about some things I do not know. I do not know why this happened. I do not know why Brian did not like ‘Terrapin Station,’ and I do not know why he liked cows so much. I do know that every time I hear that song, or see cows alongside the highway, I think of Brian.

And when I think of Brian, a few things come to mind. The first, of course, is music. Also, the smell of a barbeque, and Thanksgiving turkey, as well as John Belushi, bicycles and baseball. But those are just associations, not real memories.

Like the last time I saw Brian. He came over to my mom’s house during my spring break, to play music with me. I videotaped that, and I will cherish those memories and recordings for the rest of my life.

This is what I remember about Brian- when we’d all be playing music, with Rob on guitar, too, and Tyler on drums, with the Repp girls running around and causing all kinds of chaos. We would get into such a groove, and Brian’s glasses would slip down his nose, and he would be peering at me over the top of them, doing that whole ‘guitar mouth’ thing that he does, you know, where his tongue is half hanging out and his jaw gets all screwy, with a few curls of hair hanging down over his forehead.

I have only been playing music for five years, and when we would play, I would struggle sometimes just to get through a song with less than five chords in it. But Brian never became frustrated or condescending- he only wanted to help me out. He would say, ‘Here, try playing it like this,’ or ‘Hey, the chords are A minor, G, D, A minor,’ and so forth. He was and always will be a great person, and by far the best musician I have ever played with. Just to chug and stumble along as he painted a beautiful picture with the white, warm light radiating from his guitar was an experience in and of itself.

I said earlier that there are things I do not know. I do not know what happens after a body dies- where our souls go, what we can feel, hear, or think. If there is life after death, I’d like to think that Brian and Stu are playing in the ultimate Grateful Dead cover band, with Jerry on vocals, of course, up in heaven or out on Mars or in our hearts, wherever it is that things like these take place.

When people die, something that is often said is ‘I never even got to say goodbye.’ Three Mondays ago, I was fortunate enough to be able to say goodbye, but I did not know that it would be for the last time.

Had I known, I would have said this: ‘Brian, I love you. I’ll miss you.   And thank you for your beautiful music.’