The End

I have a friend. A friend I met online. A friend who wrote to me way back in the day when I first started publishing and we exchanged emails that were at first, pithy, and then, as shared experiences, thoughtful responses, and the mutual love of makeup was identified, the connection became deeper. And then deeper.

And deeper.

Now, we call each other “sisters from another sister.” She is in my heart. We’ve shared our histories. We prop each other up when one is falling down. We offer support and guidance through life’s troubled times. We crack each other up.

And when I learned she lost her ladle, I bought her one, as you do if you’re a friend.

I’ve met her once in person.

I wish I lived next door to her.

A few years ago, she had something happen that was ultimately joyous, but the news at the time was life derailing. We spoke of this situation at length.

I start this blog with her.

But this is about her husband.

Readers often say to me, “How do you make up these guys? [my heroes] There are not men like this in real life.”

I knew they were wrong even before I knew of or met (also only once) Jason.

I swear, the man is like God saying, “Okay, you’ve got this right. This works. This strong woman/strong man thing. See? I give you her. And I give you him.”

That him being the “him” who was, we’ll say in macho-alpha speak, significantly annoyed when my office reno went entirely off track, and as he’s in the construction biz, he would know. And I am not in the construction biz, thus have no clue. So he relayed precisely what I should do about it in a flurry of texts sent through his wife. (By the way, what he advised was what I did, and the situation was handled.)

He also appreciated the delivery of the ladle.

And when I bought their entire brood (of all boys, mind) Nerf guns for Christmas, he got in on the act with his boys (one of whom fell asleep with his toy firmly clenched in his hand, I saw photo proof of this and it is one of the most hilarious and precious pictures I’ve ever seen).

Lastly, he’s the inspiration for Black. Graham Black, the ghost of the Chaos Motorcycle Club.

Since I wrote MOTORCYCLE MAN, the specter of Black, even for me, was elusive. I knew he was a good man. I knew his brothers loved him. I did not know him.

Until Jason.

And here it is. Simple. And yet not.

He’s a good man. He loves his wife. And he loves his boys.

The end.

Thirteen words to describe colossal things.

Make no mistake, there is much more to him, much more that makes him, and much more that makes him a remarkable human being, and I know all of that mostly from knowing the stories of Jason through my friend, his wife. But that is not for me to share, it was just for me to know, to respect, and to lean on when I created Black.

So, as Jason was the inspiration behind Black, I sent my book, WILD LIKE THE WIND, to my friend to read before it was released so she could see what I did with that inspiration.

While she was reading, Jason asked what his character was like.

The answer, “Kristen slit your throat.”

Needless to say, this was not the response he expected to get.

But it’s all there. The loyalty and love, honor and respect, and for Black, enduring grief of the loss of a good man. A man who loved his wife. A man who loved his boys. A man who became defined as those things just as it should be.

As it should be.

But through that book, and dedicating it to Jason, I was able to express my deep admiration for a man who embodies the colossal goodness of humanity.

It really boils down to this.

In the end, were you a good person?

In the end, did you live your love and show it to those you hold in your heart?

He does.

That’s it.

The end.