Last weekend, my friend Brun's parents reached out to share the news, and I am fairly sure I am still not 100% ready to talk about it, but I wanted to say goodbye to him, anywhere that the news might reach his other friends and acquaintances.
Brun passed on 2/25/22 from complications of his Parkinson’s. He had fought valiantly for many years now and generally always with a stiff upper lip and a quiet good nature. He made the most he could out of every day and rode his motorcycle, drove his car, wore his fursuits and squeaky's right up until the last that he could for any one of those things. He cared for himself as long as he could and finally had to enter care and leave his home this last winter.

There is so much about his situation that sucked, so much he could have raged and been bitter about, but whenever we would see or hear from him, he was just as kind, contemplative and amazing as he had ever been. So rather than be sad, I'd like to say a little about the amazing friend I knew.

I am not sure exactly when we met, but I think it was in the early 00's, I had been getting out and joining the furry community IRL, parties and meetups, going to AC for the first time, and FurFright in '04, Brun was a staple of the friends group I found myself in, hanging out with furs from the NE_Furs groups and many folks down in CT.
As I got to know the amazing folks that flocked to CT on the weekends and worked on making FurFright happen, I began to get to know Brun and our mutual friend Tibor, both from up in NH at the time. We joked and talked on LiveJournal and email.

As I looked to move out on my own, it just so happened that Brun was looking for a roomate and it seemed like kismet!
Brun was a sweet guy, and as roomate material I for one couldn't have lucked out any better. He was stable, hard working and generous. Our rent agreement was as simple as you could imagine, don't break things, clean up after yourself and pay the rent in a timely manner... and all the food was fair game unless otherwise noted. Just replace it if you didn't buy it. I still smilie about it all because as much as I might have been disappointed to find half the biscuts I made eaten, or my bagels gone and hummus eaten, Brun would just as kindly offer to pay for dinner if I called the sub shop and went out to pick it up.

When I moved in I was a 20-something with a lot of literal and emotional baggage, figuring themself out for the first time in the real world, carrying on friendships and visiting family states away, starting a new relationship with my someday-mate Ty. The best analogy I could make is to call it my collage years, I never attended university but Brun gave me the launch pad to start my adult live and live all of it at light speed. Working part and full time hours at a new job, rattling around the apartment trying to figure myself out, bouncing from thing to thing and place to place with the energy and emotional stability of most young people, he put up with me and even encouraged me to try new things.

An avid motorcycle rider, he subscribed to Rider and American Motorcycle Association magazines, owner of at the time four motorcycles, he and I would geek about bikes all the time, when he offered to let me ride his 1978 CB750F if I went out and got my MSF motorcycle course and passed my license endorsement, it was a no-brainer! When he gifted me that same CB750 the following Christmas after I had spent the summer and fall (and arguably way too much of the winter in slush season!) riding and caring for and tuning it up, I was floored!

When he patiently continued to answer my phone calls from the side of the road when I broke down, or to come get me from the hospital when I'd done something stupid (unrelated to the motorcycle!) when he let me invite my partner down for the night, day, weekend, the whole week and finally to move in, I was lucky, and he was unbelievably patient and kind.
He tolerated our Christmas hubbub even though that wasn't his thing, he shared his space and his time with us. He supported Ty as they moved into becoming an artist, he supported me as he let me express who I was or wanted to be, he asked for little in return except the same kindness and understanding and he he was such a good soul that I wondered why he even had to ask. Of course he could wear his suits, do his own thing. It was *his* apartment, and even more so, who cared, we shared countless hours watching everything from the daily news to How it's Made and his favorite (and soon mine) Alton Brown's "Good Eats" and (combining all our love oof food and the road) "Feasting on Asphalt" while he suited up, and I dressed how I wanted, and Ty worked on their art.

I cluttered his 'minimalist' living room with paperwork and bills, laptops and sewing machine. We fetched his track ball mouse when he couldn't see it in suit and found straws or chopsticks, and he shared his love of NPR, Philip Glass, the B-52s and the Talking Heads. We watched kung fu, cult classics like Escape from LA, and more.

He was always understanding, when we eventually moved out, I told him by email, too scared to upset or disappoint him in person. When Ty and I were married he came to our reception, even if it was the most crushingly 'normal' thing, outnumbered by my family who did not yet know me as I was. When I began wood working he asked me to refinish an antique desk he had found at a thrift store years before, a clownish coloured thing of black, red, blue, pink... It took me almost two years to finish that desk, but he waited patiently and sponsored the materials. As much as he might have wanted that nice old desk to be saved from itself, I think he wanted to support me in learning something new.

He was unflappably quirky, his sense of humor uniquely his own. He had a nearly set response to any number of queues, if knocked on the door you got a 'Burgle burgle", if you prompted him with "Hey man, is that Freedom Rock." He'd never miss the beat to answer "Well tuuurn it up!"
If you brought up most anything adjacent to lounge singing, the muppets or Animal in particular, he would find a clip of Animal loosing his mind as Rita Moreno sang on the Muppet's show.
If you or he successfully completed a task he would sing "Nah nah nah nanana." and somehow we became convinced "Doodly" was a catchphrase of his.

We never got to enjoy any epic motorcycle journeys together, but we would grab our bikes and find icecream or trip down to breakfast or the local reservoir and once at least a larger trip out to the Maine coast to follow friends up to Ogunquit and then ride back down the coastal route.

We played video games together or at least together separately, we were each others Lets Play streamers before they were a thing, he joined my D&D game several times and was there so often for not just myself but so many others.

I don't know how he did it, I personally struggle to keep up contact with others, but he always seemed to be out there at least a little, even in his later days as communication became so difficult. He was often quiet and reserved about himself, but he was never withdrawn either, he was a person you felt equally comfortable around in silence or chatting up a storm about anything, serious or nerdy.

He was an amazing member of many communities, helping with IT and tech for conventions, running panel's and events, and truly enjoying the fandom on his own. I was blessed to run into someone so amazing, and to know him as long as I did, I wish so much that I could have spent more time, talked more often, and had more years to do it in too.

His family has asked that his friends have a drink for him, and in leu of anything, that anyone who wants should donate to the American Parkinson’s Association
Tibor Tiger was amazing enough to set up a donation page with them in Brun's honor and has a touching Tweet thread started here that contains a link to the memorial donation page as well: https://twitter.com/TiborTiger/stat.....VcAL8frAGbZVEw

More than just sadness, in time I hope may of us can come together and share photos and stories of Brun and remember him for the amazing friend, person and community member he was.

I miss you Brun,
Fire