A man among boys. That’s how I described Vince to people. In a world full of selfish, egotistical, indifferent males, Vince was the polar opposite.
We met through a mutual friend, Jeff. They worked together at Boeing and were housemates. It was 2013, and I was living in New York City. Jeff texted me about this guy he met at work who was going to move in with him and how cool he was. I gave his message a thumbs up.
The next week, another text: “I can’t wait for you to meet my roommate. He’s the coolest guy. He’s quite a bit younger than us. He reads a book on his lunch break while the rest of us play foosball or work out. He loves to read!”
Wow, Jeff. A person who reads books? Fascinating! I thought, chuckling as I delivered another thumbs up.
A couple of days later: “Dude, you’re gonna love this guy! I know you guys are just gonna dig each other.”
“That’s awesome, man! I’m glad you found a roommate you get along with so well,” I replied, surprised by his insistence. Jeff was never one to gush.
“Yeah, but seriously, you two are gonna totally hit it off,” he said.
A week later, a pic of the young newcomer hit my phone: dark locks cascading down his neck, broad shoulders, no shirt, buff, and ethnically ambiguous.
“Jeez, bro! Do you have a crush on this guy or something? Or are you trying to line us up? LOL”
“Haha no! He’s just cool. Trust me. You’ll see when you visit.”
A short time later, I was home for the holidays and went over to Jeff’s. A baby-faced college student with a lumberjack physique greeted me at the door with an earnest smile and a handshake as he introduced himself. “I’m Vince. It’s great to meet you! Jeff has told me so much about you.”
Yes, but have you seen me shirtless? Cuz this weirdo’s been sendin’ me pics and raving about you non-stop.
“Nice to meet you, Vince. I’m Alex.”
Beers were cracked within sixty seconds, and the conversation flowed as easily as the brew down our gullets. It was about 7 pm. Our chatting was punctuated by foosball, and around 11 pm, Jeff retired to his room.
Vince and I sat on the couch. The TV was on, but we weren’t watching. We just kept talking, exchanging questions and responses, experiences and perspectives, stories and memories—like a sprint to get to know each other as quickly as possible.
The whole time, I kept thinking how mature he was, how inquisitive, how genuine, and how kind. I wasn’t far from 40; he wasn’t far into his 20s, yet I felt like I was chatting with a contemporary, one with great intuition and insight. He was wise beyond his years.
We gabbed and gabbed, and before we knew it, it was 4 am. We both laughed when we realized the time, and finally we said goodnight before he went to his room and I crashed on the couch.
Well, Jeff was right. Now I understand all those texts, heh. I just met my kindred spirit. We’re going to be friends for life.
Even though we hit it off immediately, and I knew our friendship was ironclad after our first encounter, his thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze me and only strengthened our friendship.
Whether it was a text just to say hi and express how much he valued me and our friendship, or a poignant gift like a custom-made Kennecott hat resembling one he saw my late father wearing in a photo from the ’80s, or insisting on doing all the yard work when he lived with me as he was preparing to join Nadia in Seattle, Vincent was the kindest, most selfless man I have ever met.
And anyone who knew Vince knows of what I speak. That is what was so remarkable about him: the consistency, the sincerity, the empathy, the selflessness, the heartfelt love—we all witnessed it, we all received it, we all felt it.
We have been robbed of a man among boys.
But we will never, ever be robbed of the memories of one of the greatest souls to have ever inhabited this earth—and our hearts.
Love you, Brother.
