Vinny

Brilliant is the first word that comes to mind when I think of Vincent Verbryck, for he was both a great thinker and he had a certain light about him. I always felt attracted to his radiance.
I loved Vincent and will always treasure being his friend.
I liked making him smile, and as he was known for his silence, I loved making Vincent say a lot. It was a challenge, but I only did it because it was worth it.
He made me smile, too. He had a great sense of humor, always sarcastic, deadpan, direct delivery. Vincent made me laugh hard.

I don’t think he understood me, but he accepted me in a way that was unique. He called me by my favored name, and he knew what that meant to me.
He did something few people will ever do with me; he wandered with me. That was special, because together we explored Knott’s Berry Farm and Anaheim, California; the torn apart, barely built neighborhoods of El Mirage and the jungles and beaches of Jamaica. We talked about deep, meaningful things and he listened really well.
Often, on AIM he would leave a message and immediately logout, not giving me a chance to react. He once left me a link to Rick Astley’s famous video. Yeah, he was the first to rickroll me. Last year, he started sending my poems by Tennyson. And he did stuff like that fairly often.
When we did talk online, we had casual but serious discussions. Once we were arguing about socialism and famous authors and I mentioned how well he argued. He didn’t try to convince me of his viewpoint, he just stated his side and listened to my opinions and to me, that was more effective than being right. I started imitating that, and he taught me how to discuss ideas without belittling people. I often felt enlightened and humbled talking to Vinny.
I think that in a way, Vincent admired me, but I admired him just as much.
I wrote this about him in January 2007 but never published it because I didn’t want to embarrass him:
There are times when I wish I could be a little more stable, a little more calm. A little more dignified, a little more introverted.

I really admire Vincent for being such a quiet person. I often tease him about his apathy, but I know he cares much more than he shows. I'm in awe of him, that he can keep his opinions silent, and go through life without provoking anyone. How he does it, I'll never know. I can't stand being so inwardly focused.

His sister told me she doesn't understand Vincent. That he walks around on his roof at times, and is always in his room. I laugh at this, because I understand all too well.

I would be lying if I said I didn't see a little bit of myself in Vincent.

I guess that makes me seem like a fanboy, but I still believe that. I saw a lot of potential in Vincent. I once tried to hook him up with my kid sister, which I wouldn't do if I didn't trust and value him a lot. I joked about starting a band with him called the Sketal Heads, a mixture of his trumpeting talent and his favorite genre of music.

He once told me that he didn’t have any passions in life and that greatly pained me. I wanted him to find passion, somewhere, anywhere. And for weeks, I tried to help him.

I often saved him a seat in church or asked him to come with the group when he wanted to be alone. He never seemed to enjoy being dragged along, but at least he did it. At poker nights at the Edahl’s, it wasn’t a complete party without Vinny there. It wasn’t really a LAN without Teh Boy.

We created some great memories together, I believe.

On Wednesday, before I knew what happened, I had spent the entire day drifting in and out of memories of Vincent. It was very uncommon, but it was nice. I remembered Jamaica and drinking virgin strawberry daiquiris and snorkeling in the reefs and how he went out for longer and farther than almost anyone and his mother was so worried when she heard that story. I remembered a lot of things like that, for no particular reason. It was surreal but it made me happy.

Later that night, when I learned what happened to Vincent, it was just like they say; my world shattered. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, or feel or hear and my vision locked up. It hurt unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
The next couple of days were like a film, which isn’t to trivialize it, but it was so perfect and it felt like I wasn’t living my own life. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real.
Thursday morning, it snowed and the sky was lint grey and still beautiful. It was like even the weather wore black and mourned with me. It was perfect.
A woman handed me a tract, and I threw it away almost immediately. I was angry at her, I was angry at everyone.

Some people may say, well he’s in Heaven now or something and that may comfort you and that’s fine. But for me, one of the only comforts right now is that I had my time with Vinny and I used it well. He was here. He made my life better. He deeply changed the person I want to be and the person I am. He made my life what it is.
My entire life with Vinny, I felt like a better person around him. He often humbled me. I spoke less and thought more. And the reason we’re here today, that’s just another way my friend Vinny has humbled me. I cried a lot, I blamed myself a lot, I broke down a lot. So I gotta say thank you to every one of my friends and family that helped me out with this tragedy, especially the Verbrycks, my parents, Kyle and Gean.
I’m here to celebrate the light, the brilliance that Vinny brought to me and to many of you here. I’m here to say goodbye.