God-dammnit, this world has lost another one.
It's been a 6 months and 3 weeks since Marty died, and I still can't get my head around it. I've lost a lot of friends to suicide, and I've never cried for one of them, but I'm crying tonight.
This isn't to say my other brothers are worth less in any way, but this one hits me in a special place.
Story time...
The night we met, will always be one of the funniest nights of my entire life. When he walked into my apartment, I'll never forget it. His sense of humour eclipsed anything I'd ever come across before, and I'd say the same to you if he was still breathing right now. My buddy Shilo and I had tears in our eyes, he was relentless.
We were literally lying on the floor, our stomachs aching from laughing so hard.
I don't know how, but we not only kept in touch after that, but we hung out a lot as well. I don't normally bond with guys so well, but when I do, it's usually for life. It didn't hurt that we were neighbours for a few years, or that we were both insanely nocturnal. But we hung out for a long while I was still in New Zealand, and we talked about all our dark secrets. I still keep his, I figure he's still keeping mine too.
Marty was an artist, and by artist, I mean he lived, breathed and sweated art.
His work was phenomenal, but it was a natural by-product of being Marty.
He made art like I shit.
I'm not sure how much bigger or more respected he could have gotten in his chosen field, I mean, everybody just loved the guy, and he had the most amazing contacts and lifestyle of anyone I know. He was a total rock star.
But to me, he was like, the strongest guy ever. He had a very concrete view of what was acceptable, and what wasn't. He was a total tough guy, and I related to that a lot. But at the same time, his heart was all rainbows and unicorns 4 eva. His generosity just went beyond anything I've ever encountered, but it wasn't blind either. There were a few times he could have rescued my ass from trouble (being a millionaire and all), but he didn't.
And that's what Marty taught me: Stand up, and help yourself, coz yourself is all you're gonna have one day. Bite down hard and deal with it. That's what makes this so confusing.
He was my understanding friend, even when he didn't really understand me.
He stuck by me when I was so self-destructive, most everyone else just shook their heads and walked away.
He was the first person I saw when I got out of jail.
And he was the guy who came to see me in hospital, after I had my attempt at suicide, all those years ago.
He looked at the rope burns around my neck and said "Rough day, huh?", one hand on my shoulder, not judging me for a second.
And I have to admit, I just don't get this.
I've never been good at life, and his death just makes me go "What do I do now?"
I mean, if Marty couldn't make it, what hope do any of us have?
It just kills me to think of how much pain he was in, to do what he did. I have a pretty good idea, because I did it too. But like all things, Marty made a more permanent job of it.
Where was I when all this was going down? Why didn't I know? He had emailed me in Melbourne from L.A, and made no mention of anything not going smoothly. I had no idea.
I found out later he had already attempted suicide recently, and that his other friends knew about it. I wish I knew about it. But that's hindsight.
He was always so stoic, he seemed so incredibly strong.
And even though I knew he was in pain, I never thought it would come to this.
I never thought...
But I know one thing-
I'm going to keep on trucking, and do the best I can with this life, because I'll never take it for granted again. I'm never giving up on my dreams, and I'm not gonna let this evil fucker of a world break my heart.
Every day I live I'm going to find time to celebrate this incredible thing that I have, and Marty never will again.
I am so honoured to have known him, I'm gonna love him til the day I die, and I'm going to let this be a lesson to me, that I would never have learned fully without him.
This is me paying tribute.
And I know that, if he was looking down on me from Valhalla, he'd mess up my hair and say "Don't cry numb-nuts".
R.I.P. Martin F Emond.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
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