'I'm writing to let you all know that our friend Bryan MacCarter died.
I thought you would want to know. I went to his friends page to see who were mutual friends.
I went to his page to check on him because it had been a few weeks since I heard from him, and found that he died at the end of October of a long time illness. That is all I know, You can go to his page and glean what you can, if you wish.
It is a very sad thing to me.
I am sorry if I shock you with this, I did not know he was ill, maybe no one did.'
This I wrote on a note at facebook to let mutual friends know of death. Then I wrote at the note:
Bryan MacCarter
Art by Bryan MacCarter
'Some time back, Lana, I saw a very kind note from you to him at one of his photos that I could not comment on because it was so painful, I'm sorry to say. But thinking of that made me want to tell you and mutual friends.' At a post of Lana Gentry's I first became significantly aware of both her and Bryan MacCarter.
To Lana Gentry from me on Facebook:
Thank you for your note at the top and re-post of this photo and thread. In my sadness about Bryan's death which I only found out about yesterday, I have among other things been trying to remember when and why I first became friends with him. I believe this, maybe my first conversation with you, and must be where I first met Bryan.
August 23, 2010. Seems I knew you both longer. But that is the nature of facebook, sometimes. Sometimes you have a friend for much longer, before you become aware of their art, for example. Sometimes you are aware and have given recognition and support for the art long before you have a real conversation. I 'member this well, I remember clicking 'like' on nearly every comment at your thread, and connecting on a conversational level with you for the first time. I believe Bryan may have begun to really connect with me, and I with him, at this very thread. Again, thank you. I am so sad.
Later, when I gave away my art, Bryan asked me for the piece in the photo at this entry. I said no, the piece is very delicate, he on the other side of a continent from me, I knew it would be damaged in the mail.
I now of course regret that I did not find some way to wrap it so carefully that it would have survived the journey. It hurts inside that he wanted it, that he was dying of a terminal illness, that I did not know that, that as far as I know, no one knew that Bryan was dying. To know that he could have been looking at it while he was so ill, that he asked me for it and I said no, hurts my heart. What hurts my heart even more is that I did not comment at his photo. I did, I do, and I should have known better, given the nature of the image. The above drawing, Lana Gentry made of me, posted on facebook. It includes the piece I now call 'Bryan MacCarter,' and is now an altar to him. I will think of him every time I look at it, and because he was one of the most understanding, supportive, kind, intelligent people I have ever met anywhere---I will revisit him at this altar, often.
I wish that I had known of Bryan's illness. I understand that he felt he needed to face his death in his own way. We all make these choices for ourselves. I just wish that people would not feel the need to hide the facts, or hide from the facts. When even the most difficult of all problems are brought out into the open, there is at least potential to deal with them, maybe even with friends.
To me when I gave away my art:
"Chandra, I have postage covered, plus, dear. Is the skull on the hand pedestal still available? I'm in Richmond, Va. Don't tell me if you don't feel like it, but what's wrong? I can arrange shipping, poste haste, if you'd like. And I will repost this, but if you have that work, and you really want to keep them in the public trust, i'll take them and pay you for your trouble. I hope you're ok. Oui, non?"
And then: "So, eating it's own, if you still have it, i'd love to have it. We just need to figure our shipping and other various jazz... : )"
Finally in regard to art piece: "If you send me the message, i'll repost it, i can't find it on your webpage, buuuut, if you're being evicted (?) you should charge for your lovely paintings, and such, , you might make a mint. : ) And i'll buy the original work i mentioned, so holler..."
OHhhhhh, my heart, I swear I never saw those last two, I actually thought he had dropped the ball to some degree, OH GOD, the technical vicissitudes...
In his own words about himself:
"My uncle was a bank robber, and he was one of the funniest, smartest guys that I knew when I was a kid. My mom's dad ran shine back in the day using trucks from his Ford dealership, and my pop's dad had speakeasies throughout the city during prohibition. heh Me, I just paint, write, and jabber about philosophy. I went to jail once, for being drunk in public, and I hated it. I like to be able to walk to the store, or the river, as I please. Plus, daughter, dog, elderly mother. They would be screwed."
A strange thing, the death of a friend. I have been crying over my facebook friend Bryan for two days. The thing is this: What would he think? I mean, we weren't that close, it's facebook. But I think Bryan wouldn't mind. He 'like'd me, at least in part, because I am emotional. That's why we were friends.
