I don’t know what to say. I have to give you guys some context to the whole story.
There is a gym near my house that I have been going to for 6 years now. I live shortly outside of Vancouver, in a little subdistrict that is considered a heritage town, it’s a fishing village (well at least it was, not as much anymore) Japanese immigrants moved here during WW2 and afterwards to build lives and we have a heavily Japanese culture in our little village. When the Japanese settlers moved here they would often work as fishermen to support their families. They came together and built a boxing and weightlifting gym here, they all took it super seriously and all of them were crazy strong, they had a rule that you couldn’t work out there if you didn’t bench 315. It created a really tight knit community over time, very few people had access to the gym (it only costs $70 a year to work out there, they don’t make a profit off of it they just keep it for the heritage.) I’m one of the lucky ones who got the chance to work out there, almost everyone who works out there has been working out there for 40+ years, the old timers always tell me their stories of how they used to bench 500lbs naturally haha.
They later built a community center around that gym and made that gym part of it. I started working at that community center gym after high school as a fitness attendant and still do but only on the weekends since I’m in school full time.
I met this guy there called Shane, his dad has been going to the gym for something like 50 years and he has been going for a long time aswell. We grew pretty close and I would always see him there, he became like a brother to me. He was the funniest guy I have ever met.
He always battled addiction and mental health issues, he was a recovered heroin addict and works for our provinces drug addiction program. He was a very selfless man always looking to help others. He had a very abusive ex wife and they split up about half a year ago. He has always struggled with an addiction to anabolics aswell and took them for most of his life.
Knowing that he had mental health issues I always checked up on him as much as I could. I tried to make it a daily thing, he was always so appreciative of it. He would always call me his brother.
I haven’t talked to him in about 2 weeks.
I came in for my shift today and found that his dad hung up his obituary poster in the gym, I dropped what I was holding and just stared at the poster for half an hour during my shift. It doesn’t feel real, I don’t even know how he passed away. I just can’t believe that it’s even real to begin with, why did it have to be him. I have spent most of this evening just crying, I haven’t told anyone aside from my closest friend, not even my parents. I’m going to his funeral this Saturday.
I hope you are looking down on me and are proud, I love you brother. I would give anything to go to the gym with you one more time. I will miss you forever. If I can ever be half the man you were I know I’ll have done well for myself.
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