Charles Brady Firmin (1988-2021), known to most of us as simply Brady, was a very complex man who would influence those around him through sheer wit and discourse. How he was seen by other people was their own perspective, but for me, he was a good man and a better friend.
I met Brady when he was about 20 years old, in a crowded apartment with the intent of nerdy interactions through Dungeons & Dragons. This should seem fitting by the end of this writing. When I walked into this apartment, greeted by mutual acquaintances and friends, there was this young man sitting at the head of the table who stood up to shake my hand and greet himself.
At that moment, I was 22 years old and reeling from depression, anger, and self-loathing. At that time, I was actively pushing away those few friends I had left. In that moment, I thought I was simply stepping into a several-hour session of debate and acting with people I either did not know or knew well enough to feel uncomfortable around.
Little did I know that, on that day, I would find a friend who became one of my most treasured people. I did not know that I was stepping into thirteen years of almost-daily conversation. I did not know that I was meeting who would become my best friend, and for a period of time, my only friend. I did not know at that time that I was being given only thirteen years to know a good person. I did not know that I was shaking the hand of a young man that would leave this earth in a short amount of time and I would miss him.
Upon meeting and interacting with this young man, I was struck by his sheer intellect. Here was a man I could not lie to, I thought. I had to be on my guard with my points of view and ready to explain my opinions. That was what Brady did to those who were receptive to rhetoric; he challenged them. I do not know why he saw this slightly older, angry person reeling from his parents’ divorce and sabotaging his relationships and thought “I will invest my time in this person”, but he had. That first night at our friends’ apartment, we sat out on the porch and debated both politics and religion. We disagreed, quite strongly, but he was patient with my rhetoric where he was otherwise scathing to our mutual friends in their stronger but ill-formed opinions.
Over the next 2 years, I learned that I had someone I could talk to and lower my guard around. I realized that I had someone I could trust. It would be years before I realized that he most likely saw the same potential in me, as he divulged his own secrets.
Within four months of our meeting, Brady would celebrate his 20th birthday and come out as homosexual. I like to think that he was personally frustrated by my calm acceptance of this admittance; I thought he was gay and had accepted the point at once, whereas several people at the same party gave him the shocked reaction he was expecting. It was probably that I had simply accepted the idea that told him to see me as a friend, but I genuinely hope he had simply liked talking to me. Really, we had more strident conversations over his atheism than his homosexuality. The latter was readily acceptable, but at the time, the former was worthy of discussion.
After this particular party, Brady became a daily occurrence in my life. Be it a sit-down at the local café or an exchange at the table over drinks, I had a fiercely intelligent friend who expected me to bring my absolute best to the discussion. If I faltered, he would call me out on the fact. If I slipped into a logical fallacy, he would bluntly tell me and help me walk back my discussion until I could explain myself better.
But he was always patient with me, where I had seen him reveal scorn to others who were willfully ignorant or steadfastly averse to education. I wanted to be a better person, and he saw that. He made the investment of time and discussion. He became an emotional foundation for me, like he had for so many others.
This is not to say that he did not come to me with his own demons. He was battling depression, self-loathing, alcoholism. He had a very bleak view of the world when left to his own devices. It’s possible that he needed the talks as much as I did.
Brady would take long periods of time to himself, named his ‘social hibernation’. During those times, he’d never answer my calls or texts, and I would not see him out and about. One of those times was well-deserved as he was struggling through rehab. It was during those times that I would learn how much I needed my friend, and I will shamelessly say that I missed him during those times.
After he became sober, he became a near-daily presence in my life. He visited my home through my bachelorhood, engagement, and eventual marriage. He was a cornerstone to my life. He became, as I liked to phrase it, my ‘Girl Friday’. He would visit and share personal moments of his life, delving into the details of his battles with diabetes with science and wit. I like to think that I learned more from my friend than I ever did in my stint at college.
My best friend died on August 17, 2021. He went into a diabetic coma and formed a blood clot that would eventually take his life. He and I did not see each other for over a year beforehand, but he would text or call every day. I will be saving our discussions.
I hope he knew how much I saw him as family. I hope he knew how much he was respected and admired. I hope he knew how much he meant to that 22yr old man who agreed to sit outside an apartment one night and discuss politics. I hope he doesn’t mind that I hope he is wrong with his atheism and that his soul is in Heaven. I hope he knew that he was my best friend for thirteen years.
I will never know. I can only hope.
Goodbye, my friend and little brother. Know that you were loved. Know that you will be missed. Know that we will continue after you. Know that we will tell stories about you.
I’ll miss you, my friend.
Swift's Corner 