Griffin Knox

If Griffin were here, I’d call him. He’d drive over to find me slumped on the kitchen floor. He’d meet me there with a hug and let me cry. Together we’d take a moment out of time. It wouldn’t be a first. I wish from my heart to the outer reaches of the cosmos, that I had more time with him. He would have been 30 on March 1st.

If you knew him well enough, you’d know he had an amazing talent for story telling, the kind to excite a person to hysterical laughter. He loved to make people laugh. The more you’d laugh, the more he’d get into character. The impressions and expressions were the cherry on top.

When we were kids in the back of our mom’s van, Griff would shoot me a goofy look. I’d have to choke down a giggle. He’d look at me out of the corner of his eye, stretch his neck out, push his chin forward, and choke down his own giggle. I’d take my turn and throw my hands over my mouth. We’d go back and forth until we were busting up. If he was here I think he might try to make me laugh.

Griffin had a merry levity and warmth. He shared that with people he cared for most. His ability to blend creativity and empathy was an art. He leaves behind a poetic life for the next grand adventure, and oh how we all hope it’s grand.