First Death of a Peer

I suppose I should be glad to have made it to 32 without having lost a significant friend or acquaintance of my own age, but instead I am bewildered by my despair at the news of the death of my friend Daniel Barnacoat on Sunday night.  I must assume that the depth of my sadness can be partially attributed to pregnancy hormones, but this man... or boy as I knew him better... has left indelible ink on the pages of my personal history and as such I feel a tremendous feeling of loss, not the least because he was a kid with so much talent and potential when we knew each other well.  I feel somewhat fraudulent to be grieving so deeply, but Daniel and I have seemed forever on paths determined to cross, even when our worlds and ambitions seemed to deviate, and I feel so sad that they will never again meet at the self serve check-out of Marrickville Metro Woollies.

Daniel was the most exceptional kid at our primary school - the apple of every girl's eye.  He was the smartest, the sportiest, the most artistic, the best looking... the nicest kid Chatswood Primary had to offer in the late 80s without rival.  I must admit my bias in this respect, for he was my long term crush throughout primary school...  but I am compelled to acknowledge (somewhat proudly) that my feelings were not altogether unrequited (which was the last time that would be true for about 15 years).  In year 6, Daniel and I were doubles partners in handball... but we all knew what that meant (wink wink, nudge nudge).   In fact, I had cause at some stage in 1990 to confront him when he had been sharing his handball prowess with another (ironically the girl who was to inform me of his death some 20 years later), and rather than reject me for my jealousy and irrationality, he fell back into line and we unofficially attended the Year 6 Dance together (I seem to have a vague recollection of taking him behind the hall to insist that he invite me as his 'partner', putting an end to the unspoken nature of our relationship once and for all).  For me, and I think for everybody else in our year, Daniel was a standout.

At high school, we went our separate ways until debating, or prefect functions or something equally upstanding and nerdy brought us back together.  I remember Daniel telling me of his mother's delight that I was back in his life because he was 'off the rails', having been recently demoted from his position as prefect at NS Boys High for his alleged use of recreational drugs (surely not!).  By 'back in his life', I mean long angsty teenage phone calls the likes of which I have not been remotely tempted to repeat since those days, but I guess Mrs Barnacoat worried that Daniel had 'fallen in with a bad crowd' and I perhaps therefore might be a 'good influence' on him.  Have I missed any parenting cliches?

After that, it was mostly chance that brought our paths back together.  We attempted to rekindle during our uni days, but discovered that our friendship was better historically than it was practically and we lost touch again (in the way that the post-email/mobile generation could never understand).  In our mid-twenties, we ran into each other one day on the North Shore while he was wearing tight leather pants and he referred vaguely (almost defensively) to a motorbike by way of explanation.  I left the encounter with two thoughts: firstly, 'oooh, my first boyfriend looks like Orlando Bloom', and secondly, 'how far away from an alleged motorbike can a man in leather pants be during mardi gras without being gay?'. I think I also left with his business card... but I can't remember ever doing anything about it.

Earlier this year, I saw Daniel again.  By now, Facebook had revolutionised 'historical friendships' so we were back in touch and had a vague idea of how life was going for each other, yet what followed was an awkward, stilted conversation.  I reflected at the time on the questionable nature of Facebook friendships, recording or certifying 'friendships' that apparently in person you cannot fulfill ... until I ran into Daniel again in August.  He seemed genuinely happy, and genuinely happy to see me (as I was him) and came rushing over to say how embarrassed he had been the last time we'd seen each other because he had been 'incredibly stoned' and unable to rub two words together.  I told him about my morose reflections at the time that Facebook  created virtual friendships between people who apparently had no business being bonded and I remember him smiling at me and saying 'nah... we've got history'.  In other words, we are friends for life, no matter which way our worlds take us.  I came home and told my fella all about Daniel Barnacoat, the exceptional human and wunderkind of my youth, and I enjoyed Daniel's Facebook movements from that day with more vigour and renewed justification.

Daniel was killed on Sunday night when he was hit by a car on McEvoy Street in Alexandria and came off his no longer 'alleged' motorbike into the path of a car coming in the opposite direction.  It was a hit and run and I understand from the news reports that he died before the ambulance got there.  He was living around the corner from me with his girlfriend and working as a tattoo artist - he told me in August that he had worked briefly for one of the bikie gangs but that he quit because it was 'just Southern Cross tattoos' and hearts with 'Mum' written across them.  I thought that was both intriguing and hilarious.

Now, Daniel's Facebook page is a memorial to him.  A compelling and miserable page that I find myself returning to over and over to see the photos and videos his 'practical' friends are posting on his wall, as well as the messages from the people who knew him.  I have not written anything. 

He is a very special part of my history and I will remember him forever, and as I wrote in a card to his family this morning, if my future kid can have just a little bit of Daniel in him or her, I will be a very lucky lady.

RIP Daniel Barnacoat... my old and true friend.