"I love you to the fucking depths of my soul and back again. You're part of me. Probably the better half. I know your mom always joked about us being long lost twins, but I don't think that's accurate. I mean, we don't even look alike. I'm way better looking than you are." She's trying to joke, but I can hear her voice getting thicker, heavier. "Whatever," she whispers. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't even think blood relatives have the kind of bond that you and I have. It was a gift. You were a gift. A gift that made my life worthwhile. A gift that made life fun. A gift that filled me with music. A gift that filled me with love. A gift that inspired me to live on the bright side.
"Gus, I know you. I know you're dealing with me being gone, that you're accepting it, or you wouldn't be listening to this right now. I know you're trying to figure out where you go from here. I want you to keep writing and performing. Please. I'm begging you. Aside from being on Earth just to be a stellar fucking human being, you're also here to share your unfathomable talent with the rest of us mere mortals. If you need a kick in the ass, open up my laptop and start poking around. There's a folder titled 'Gus's much-fucking-needed inspiration.' That's right, I know you're probably struggling with writing. I know you shut down when you're stressed and I would imagine my departure has brought on some mammoth goddamn stress. Please let the stress and the sadness and the anger go. It's time to do epic again, dude."
I glance at the tattoo on my right arm and smile. She continues. "Listen to 'Gus's much-fucking-needed inspiration' and let it inspire you. There are a few songs I wrote that you've never heard. There are a few choruses that I never wrote the rest of the song around. There are guitar riffs and violin arrangements. There are words or phrases that for some reason stuck with me. I tried to pick out the best of the best and put it all in one place for you. If you only listen to the audio files once, that's fine, but please listen to them in their entirety. I know you; don't skip out early because it's hard. Just be brave, put your big boy pants on, and do it. Something you hear is going to click with you and you're gonna run with it. And it's going to turn into a kickass Rook song." She's right, it's time. It's time.
"Two more things. I know if you aren't already smoking that you want a cigarette right now, so I'm gonna say it. You should quit. I tried not to be bossy or nag the hell out of you, but you really need to. ASAP. I like you alive and healthy. I'm not going to say this because I'm trying to put a guilt trip on you. I'm going to say this because it's the truth and I only want what's best for you." She pulls in a deep breath, which only helps reinforce the message she's trying to convey. She was on oxygen when she recorded this and I can hear the labored breath. "Cancer fucking sucks, Gus. You don't want this, dude. I don't want this for you. Please quit." She pauses again. I need the pause. Her words hit me right in the gut. They take my breath away. She's not trying to be mean. She's not trying to throw guilt rocks. She's just trying to get it through my thick fucking skull that smoking is killing me. This is first time in my adult life that I've felt like I want to quit smoking, not that I need to. There's a difference. That difference is the motivation that makes things happen in life. I reach in my pocket and pull out the pack I always carry with me and I drop it in my trash can. A flash of panic hits me before I hear it hit the bottom. As soon as I hear Bright Side's voice again, the panic fades.
"Last thing, but equally important," she says with renewed determination. "I hope you find someone to give your heart to. If our friendship is any indication of your capacity to love, the woman you end up with will not know what hit her when you fall in love with her. I hope you find her soon so that you have an entire lifetime to love her and she has an entire lifetime to experience all of the greatness that is Gus Hawthorne. Besides, the world needs Hawthorne babies. Lots of them. Kids love you, Gus. And you'd totally show up all the other dads when you go to Gus Junior's third grade career day. Just imagine: after little Johnny's dad introduces himself as a stuffy-ass stock trader, you can introduce yourself as the Rock God of Rook. How badass would that be? I'll be watching, because I totally want to see that play out."
There's a pause again. She's trying to figure out how to wrap this up. I hear her sniffle and I know now that she's trying to hold back tears. "I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say good-bye, but we agreed not to say good-bye anymore. And the truth is, I don't want to leave you. So, I'm going to tell you instead that I'll always be with you. I've already talked to God about signing on as your guardian angel." I don't doubt that she actually had that conversation out loud. She always talked to God like an actual person who was going to talk back. It always made me laugh, but I also liked the unabashed faith she had that it might actually make a difference. "I think he's cool with it, so, you know, I'll be around. I'll be watching and listening. Except when you're having sex, been there, done that; I know what you look like naked, dude." I hear her teasing smile winning the battle against the impending tears. "I'll leave you be and give you some privacy for the love sessions." I laugh out loud at that. Only Bright Side would talk about God, guardian angels, and sex in the same string of thoughts. "I guess I just want to say thank you, dude. For everything and more. I love you, Gus. Always."