Scott's very close friend, and band mate composed this letter and read it remarkably at Scott's Funeral Service, Thanks Seth.
During the week before I left for school, we bonded even tighter
than we had ever been before, which I thought was impossible.
We went canoeing on Stony Brook three times, just you and I.
There are images carved in my brain of us swinging our bodies
at the count of 3 to try and shimmy the canoe over logs. I remember
how you commented on how people would be so confused if they
saw two heads above the weeds thrusting forward every three seconds.
At one point in the canoe trip, we thought it would be a good idea to
go swimming in the deeper parts of Stony Brook, which were all of
6 feet deep and surrounded with weeds. Out in the middle of nowhere,
we argued about who had to jump in first. Finally I gave in, only after you
shook my hand, promising that you would jump in right after. Even though
as soon as I hit the water I started screaming at the top of my lungs
because the weeds were closing in and tangling my legs, you still
jumped in. We thrashed around in the water, trying to stay as far from
the bottom of the stream as possible. You kept telling me to stop
screaming because you were laughing so hard you could barely keep
It was the funniest and scariest thing I have ever experienced. Then the
canoe floated downstream a bit and right into the heart of all the weeds.
We knew that one of us had to go into the weeds to get it. I of course
reasoned that since I jumped in first, you had to go get the canoe. I don't
know how you did it, but I remember watching you doggy paddle your way
over into the weeds, with cattails surrounding you, not being able to see
anything under you. You struggled into the canoe as I screamed at you to
hurry up because the weeds were taking control of my body. Once we
were both in the canoe we just stopped and laughed for at least five minutes.
We smelled like rudera for the next few hours and we had dried weeds all
over our backs. I can't believe we actually swam in that thing.
When I talked to you last Friday, we planned on canoeing as soon as I
got back. We also planned on going bowling in Acton with the usual crew.
But our plans stretched way beyond the next few weeks. We talked about
how we were going to live together after graduating college and just play
music every night until we died. We planned to start another band together
so we could dress up in diapers, pantyhose, garbage bags, tin foil, or any
number of ridiculous outfits together again. When we said goodbye, you told
me you missed me and loved me, and I returned the same feelings to you. I
was to come home this weekend and we were going to have some fun. I am
thankful that the last conversation we had was a memorable one. It seems
like we talked about everything we had ever done or planned to do.
With all the plans we had, it seems so wrong for you to be taken away.
But I know how much we talked about life and death, and I know that you
wouldn't want anyone to be sad; especially me. There is nothing any of us can
do to change what happened. I just wish there was some way I could show you
how many people would do anything to have you back.
There are certain things about you that I will never forget. When we took bites
out of Kristen's Easter bunny when she wasn't around, just to see how she
reacted when she found it, when we worked together in the Superintendent's
Office and Town Hall, when we played in Time to Rise, End of Existence, and
The Psi Factor together, when we drove around in the middle of the night and
just talked to each other, when you were always waiting for my parents to
leave town so we could just stand around in my kitchen, drink Gatorade, listen
to Van Halen, and talk, and how could I forget when I beat you 24 times in a
row at Ping Pong and you still wanted to play.
You and I are so much alike, it is sometimes frightening. I couldn't count
how many times we would say the exact same thing at the exact same time.
When we were looking at a picture of a soldier and we wanted to give him
a name, out of the blue we both said "Hank". Neither of us know anyone named
Hank, and that was just too weird. When that happened I remember you looking
at me with fear in your eyes and running down the hall away from me, screaming
as usual. I seriously believe that there is something going on between our minds.
Trying to sum how close we were is like trying to eat an entire bag of Pork Rinds.
I am still in utter disbelief about what happened. It is impossible to believe that
we will never watch 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest' or 'Deliverance' again.
We will never go canoeing at night like we planned for the Spring. You will never
hear the new Arcturus CD that we have been waiting a year for. How is it possible
that I will never hear that scream of yours again?
Lately I had been feeling closer and closer to you, even though I was 400 miles
away at college. I only talked to you twice in a month, but each time I walked away
feeling this sense of accomplishment from realizing how much of a true friend
you are to me.
Scott, I know you wouldn't want any of us to be sad. You would exclaim that you
are just a piece of meat, and why should anyone be sad about meat? But man,
you were my best piece of meat, and I'll never forget you. You and I were the
same person, split between two different, yet both skinny, bodies. Therefore I
believe you aren't totally gone, because half of you is up here talking to all your
closest friends and relatives right now.
You were the closest friend I've ever had Scott, and I will never, ever forget you.
I love you with all my heart man.