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NOTE: THIS IS THE FIRST GUEST BLOG OF THE “SURVIVING SERIES” – MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR TO THE RIGHT

Today I turn 36.

I was born on November 26, 1975. Not even two months after my cousin. Since the day I was born, I’ve had a genius staring at me…

I imagine he was judging me immediately… “Who are you? Why do you look like that? Why am I sharing this warm pool, already filled with love, with you?”

The mastermind I speak of is of course my cousin, Timothy Brian Price…

I have known Tim for what is conceivably every second of my existence. Understand that for a moment… I am saying that there is a person on this earth with whom I share almost my entire experience. So close in age that we could be mistaken for twins, so connected by almost every piece of thread in the fabric of our being. Elaine was my godmother, and we spent so much time together that the thin line between cousin and brother was almost non-existent. We had two young mothers with no money, trying their best to raise two little boys on their own. (Luckily, they had two of the most influential people to ever grace my life looking out for them, and Tim and I spent much of our lives at our grandparents house in Stratford- Mary and Andrew, R.I.P.) We also would spend days, sometimes weeks, at each other’s houses, counterparts in each other’s young lives. Tim and I are very different people—but when you break down the complexity of life’s structure, strip away the experiences that shape one’s personal being, we are still those two boys clinging to their mother’s leg in the late 1970’s. We have our own bond that no one else on this earth can share. No one can touch it, no one can have it. It is ours.

Before David, Tim already had a brother…

In 1980, we were blessed with a third link in our unbreakable bond—a child that would forever change my life…

To be honest, there is a large portion of my life where I would consider David to be my best friend. I remember how devastated he was when I told him he wouldn’t be the best man at my wedding. He later told me he felt like his heart melted when he heard the words roll of my tongue. I think sometimes he loved me even more than I knew… ahh, the beauty and pain of hindsight. Well, we certainly didn’t speak as much since he moved to NYC and I stayed in CT, raising my own sons. There is probably a large portion of this audience who has no idea who I am… but nothing could ever change the seemingly limitless laughter that we shared throughout our childhood, our teenage years, and our 20’s. Even as adults, I could walk into a room, and the second our eyes locked, we knew exactly what the other was thinking. Quite remarkable, really. And it wasn’t something that had just happened that week, or something that recently occurred at work. It was a feeling based on truly knowing someone and the inner workings that make them tick. We had so many inside jokes—it might seem impossible for anyone else to understand what the hell we were even laughing about. And of course, that just made us laugh harder. I remember being in high school, with David still in middle school, and this classmate said to me, “Why are you hanging out with this little kid?” and I said, “Because that’s my boy.”

And he truly was…

I have a lifetime of memories with David. I vividly remember babysitting him with my mother at our apartment on Essex Place, literally the first child I ever held. He was always that lovable, charismatic, thoughtful person that would go on to touch so many lives in the 31+ years he was with us. We played every sport imaginable, some of which we just made up to kill time. We spent every holiday together, had countless sleepovers, and labored through Sunday mornings in a church that recited roughly the entire three-hour service in Russian. I now realize how indescribably precious those days were.

When we were little, Tim, David and myself formed JTD: a comic book publishing company that featured myself as the lead artist, Tim as the lead writer, and David as… the janitor. Man, he hated that role… but after we’d ball up a rough draft that wasn’t up to par, it was his job to throw it away. He would proceed reluctantly, sometimes with tears blocking his vision of the pale. This took place upstairs in my grandparents’ house, in a room where the three of us slept in the same bed, and I frequently had to separate the Price brothers from performing mortal combat on one another.

JTD lasted all of one comic, one which we sold to our grandmother for a nickel. To this day, Tim and I still talk about it. Even though it never took off, JTD represents a certain cohesion, an extra layer of adhesive in the glue that bonds the three of us for eternity.

In retrospect, maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought because what occurred on October 15th is still unfathomable to me. I’m still very angry with him and at the same time my heart aches for him.

After Elaine died, I sat in her beach house and begged her to give me a sign… something to let me know she was watching over me. I haven’t done that yet with David. Maybe I will someday. Maybe he’ll just show up and bless me with a touch of his unique brilliance.

After David’s wake, my son Elijah and I were driving home. He said to me, “I can’t believe how many people showed up.” I replied, “That’s what happens when a king dies.”

Rest in peace my beautiful friend…