Eternal bear hugs
So many memories... where does one start?
Maybe here. 16 years old. Wearing khaki pants and an ugly red polo shirt, covered in cheese and pizza sauce, hair disheveled. Standing in the back of a Domino’s pizza that had this distinct smell of what can only be described as “Domino’s”. I’ll never forget the bear hug Tagan gave me immediately after I learned my father had just passed away.
I first met Tagan when we were 11 years old. We would drink coffee and catch scorpions in the wash behind his house... the usual things 11 year olds do in suburban Phoenix. His weird immediately jived with my weird, and so began the greatest friendship of my life. From then on we didn’t spend much time apart.
I remember one summer in college we headed down to Rocky Point, Mexico. We decided to rent ATVs and traverse the coastal sand dunes. Being a stubborn 20 year old I declined his offer to put sunscreen on my back. The next day (and many days after) I eagerly accepted his offer to carefully rub aloe vera on my Grade 3 sunburned back. Tagan always had my back, some days more literally than others.
I’m not sure when it started, or who initiated it, but over time when we’d see each other we’d give each other exaggerated (and sometimes just plain ridiculous) bear hugs, occasionally finding ourselves on the ground afterwards. I think part of the motivation was to make Tanya and Jen feel a bit uncomfortable, that was always fun after all... But the main reason was our genuine love for each other.
One of the last deep conversations we had was about how fortunate we were to find partners so compassionate and warm, and who genuinely are our better halves. That was typical of Tagan; even in his most challenging of times he showed gratitude and appreciation for everyone around him. Of the thousands upon thousands of hours we spent together I never saw him be disrespectful or rude to anyone, he just didn’t have a single mean bone in his body. In hindsight it’s so remarkable, and something I didn’t fully appreciate until after he passed away. He had unparalleled patience and kindness.
Recently, after 5+ years of my friendly coaxing and telling Tagan about how positively practicing yoga affected my own life, he finally made the plunge to give it a try. In typical Tagan fashion, he insisted on his first class being advanced level. From then on he would show up consistently to Sunday morning yoga in clothes that didn’t fit his dadbod quite right, with Bodhi’s sippy cup serving as his water bottle, and he would practice on my old and worn yoga mat. As usual, he immediately made friends and was quickly an appreciated part of the community. Seeing his blissful zenned-out face, with his clothes drenched in sweat, at the end of each class brought me great joy.
The last time I saw Tagan was leaving Sunday morning yoga. He gave me a hug, then he smiled and waved goodbye as he walked by the open door across the room. And then... like there was a glitch in the matrix of reality... he backpedaled like he was rewinding the video, and he walked by the open door and smiled and waved goodbye once more. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would be a goodbye that needed to be done twice.
Eternal bear hugs, see you on the other side,
Chris
To contribute a page to the memory book, email your words and/or photos to taganmemorybook@gmail.com
