Cody
There is a time where you stop focusing on anything with your eyes, and the world goes all fuzzy. Those brief moments where you step outside the world, where your thoughts can somewhat seem like reality because they both share the same haze. Then in one blink, you’re back. I can still see you in those moments. It makes reality tough to come back to.
On November 14th, I lost my best good buddy, Cody Fisher. I remember I had just arrived in Calgary for a weekend of work and I received a call from Cody. Only it was his wife and sister giving us news that no wife and sister should ever have to give. For three and a half months, I’ve felt stuck in that moment after the blink—bleak and unreal. There are joys in life, little moments where you forget. Not about him, but that he isn’t a call away. It feels selfish being this sad while others are so much more affected than me. It feels selfish to be this sad when others are grieving even more. Yet, I lost one of the greatest friends, the brother I never had, and a role model. But he left four kids and a loving wife without one of the greatest dads there ever was and a father, mother, and sisters with only the memories of a son and brother. I feel angry because I don’t understand how the guy who cared more than most about what he put into his body was the one we had to bury. I feel lost trying to imagine the reasoning in faith. Why would a God need my best friend and leave behind this disaster? Did he need a best friend? Something really heavy lifted? Or maybe he was very confused about Bitcoin. There are so many random moments that these feelings come to surface, and the only feeling of respite I find is that the pain I feel today is the profound love and effect he had on my and others life.
During the week leading up to Cody’s funeral, I tried to look for reasoning or solace in the pain I and others were feeling. It brought me also to the reflection on the time I am honored to have spent with Cody. The nights spent slaying Shinedown songs in his Accord at the top of our lungs. The multiple ‘man-off’ competitions to see who would cave first. Nights where he would come out butt naked from his room while I was falling asleep on his and Bryan’s couch. The countless hours spent inside World of Warcraft defending the Alliance as only Malgor knew how. The long chats during a drunken day as his golf partner. Standing beside him as his best man as he married the girl of his dreams. Watching him become a father for the first time. The weekly phone calls, just shooting the shit or talking about how crazy the world was. So many moments, so many pieces of these moments are integral building blocks to the person I am today. I remember when people questioned Cody’s success in life as ‘right place, right time,’ well, when we were partying on Halloween in our early 20s, Cody was out in Saskatchewan lifting heavy things because success happens when you say ‘yes, I can,’ not ‘no, I can’t.’
All these moments, all these words, and all the lessons and advice, I carry these with me everywhere I go. It’s crazy how much Cody comes up in my life, whether it’s telling a story or remembering where I learned something. On the night before we laid Cody to rest, Tamra asked a few of us if we would like to write a small letter that would be laid with Cody. So I find comfort and solace in knowing that I will always carry with me and spread the words and lessons that Cody gave me, and Cody will eternally carry with him the words that I gave him.
Cody, this one’s just for you, pal. I miss you so much. I’m doing what I can to look after your girls. I played Mario Kart with them, and man, that was awkward running upstairs crying after. Your family is so great and so strong. They’re in good hands. I love you, bro. Until we see each other again.
