Saying Goodbye to Eli

Last Friday, a member of my extended comedy family was killed in a motorcycle accident.

I didn't know Eli very well. Our paths crossed when I was just starting out. He was encouraging, and an inspiring performer. He was absolutely authentic, and an incredible presence on stage. Eli was a fearless performer-- he would just put himself out there. He was a very physical comedian, and he could hold the stage for what seemed like an eternity-- without saying a word. He had such an original and infectious personality. Among our circle, many of his expressions-- Eli-ism's-- became part of our collective vernacular. (That one's true.)

Saturday night there was a show in which many of his friends performed. Everyone paid tribute in some small way in their set. One of Eli's best friends did only Eli's material. Amazing. It was sad, yes, but also a celebration. There was a lot of laughter.

You live long enough, this sort of thing happens with unfortunate regularity. People in your life die before their time. You know it will happen again, but it always comes as a shock. I cannot make sense of it. I cannot recognize any grand plan that this could be a part of.

As always, it's a reminder that it could be you, me or anyone, anytime. It's a reminder not to leave things unsaid or undone, because you never know when they may have to stay that way. It's a reminder that every day we have is a gift, and that once it's gone, it's gone.

I ran in a race on Sunday. As I neared the finish line, I saw someone holding up a big sign that said, "Go Eli!"

Go, if you must. But we wish you didn't have to.