WE ALL SURRENDER TO TOCK

If you knew Dan Roemele, you probably don't know me. But he was one of my closest friends none the less.

I met Dan shortly after being relocated to Pittsburgh about 15 years ago. Making friends in a new city isn't easy, especially while still looking for work. I met Dan online at first, because we played a lot of the same things. Tabletop games, computer games, role-playing games, good science fiction novels... but soon I came to learn that there was a deeper, more complex person beneath the geekdom that we had in common.

Still, a lot of our shared language originated from those games and books and movies and TV shows, so you'll have to indulge me if this is full of little references to all those things. And a lot of rambling, because our friendship and lives were never a "Point A to Point B" kind of thing.

What struck me most about Dan is that he was absolutely a straight shooter. He was incredibly intelligent, warm, accepting and loving of others unconditionally... but he also had very strong opinions and he didn't hestiate to share them with you, as kindly but directly as possible. Not to beat you over the head with his point of view, but rather to say "I feel differently on that topic, and here's why". I'm the sort that really values and appreciates people like that in my life. Suffice to say that Dan and I didn't always agree on everything. In fact, we didn't often agree on anything - even the things we had in common. We had a shared love of all things Battletech and MechWarrior - but he didn't like some of my favorite factions and characters. And his reasoning was usually legitimate (and often revolved around "world building", which was core to how evaluated anything with a fandom).

But it wasn't just fantasy and sci-fi that he was candid about. It was core to everything we ever discussed. Our cards were always on the table - I knew where he stood, and likewise, and neither of us was ever reluctant to bring it up. And if we didn't see eye-to-eye on something, we tacitly agreed to disagree and carried on with the things we did mutually enjoy. Disagreement never came between us. If anything it built a kind of trusting friendship that's incredibly rare in my life.

There aren't many people in my life with whom I'm comfortable letting my guard down completely. Being candid and open and honest and not afraid to say what was on my mind. And he never judged. If I vented about some crappy thing that was happening in my life, he'd be there to say "I'm sorry things suck right now. Love you, my dude" and send a virtual hug. I can count on one hand the number of people who really know me that well, and now there's one less.

And when he welcomed me into his life, he wasn't just a friend to me. He was also a friend to the people I loved the most - not solely for my sake but because he took the time to get to know them as well. He maintained those friendships as well, and shared that supportive, understanding and authentic self he was to everyone else he loved.

As others have mentioned, Dan was a man of many layers and many aspects. What he revealed depended on the ways he knew you. No doubt that if I asked 50 of his friends what Dan was "really" like, I'd get 60 different answers. Every one of them would be true, though.

And that's the other thing. He maybe never really understood just how much we all loved him in return. When I was speaking to his cousin who shared the news of his passing, she said "I think he's the only one who knew him who didn't realize what an awesome dude he really was." I understand why - anxiety and depression can be crippling and they really do a number on your self-esteem.

"Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said" wasn't just a novel he surely read. The themes of loneliness, isolation, self-identity and loss were things we quietly shared struggles with, as well. Flow, my tears.

I guess I heard the news too late to join all of his other friends at his Celebration or Life - and I really wish I'd known because I wouldn't have missed it for anything - but I know that if he had been there too, and saw all the people who came together to share their love for him, he'd be amazed.

As Captain Kirk eulogized Spock, "Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most human."

That crippling anxiety and depression kept him home a lot, so I didn't see him as often as I would have liked. Every now and then he'd drop by for game night (or more rarely, invite us over to his place) and he always exposed his friends to some really interesting Euro boardgames (and Ticket to Ride, which I've come to love). I rarely won against him at anything, but when I did I knew I had earned it, because he never just let anyone win. So I saw him now and then, but a lot of our communication was online. We could talk forever about Star Wars or Star Trek or space exploration or science or superheroes or Battletech or Battlestar Galactica or Babylon 5 ("Don't practice your alliteration on me!")... I don't remember exactly how he felt about that last one, but given his love for good world building I'm sure he'd appreciate the thought that came to my mind today.

I recall an episode of B5 where Captain Sheridan is dying and and one of the enigmatic alien characters says to him "Tick, you're alive, Tock, you're dead. If you want to get out, you have to surrender to Tock." Eventually, we all surrender to Tock, but usually not suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of 48.

I knew that Dan wasn't in the best of health - he had a very stressful and demanding job, his mental health surely took a toll (and impacted his self-care) and he had been getting over something like a bad flu or Covid near the end. Around New Year's, he had slipped and fallen on the ice, and that couldn't have helped either. When I chatted with him on January 17th, he evaluated his status as "not fantastic". We spoke often on Facebook Messenger. On the 27th we had a long conversation about Battletech. On the 31st I sent him a meme I knew he'd enjoy, but never got a response, or even a reaction. At first, I thought this was just Dan being his reclusive self. But days passed, and total radio silence was never his thing, so after a week I reached out to his cousin to see if she knew how he was doing. And that's when I got the bad news.

I guess it's merciful to know that he passed gently, in his sleep, rather than any number of other ways we might shuffle off this mortal coil. If the Universe had a little more grace to spare, it's comforting to know it was there for him at the end. I know he loved me and he knew I loved him,too. Ours was not the most conventional friendship (I don't know if he had any of those, honestly) but it was significant and meaningful even if most of his friends didn't even know me, or know of me. Now, there's one less person who truly knows me and accepts me completely anyway.

In the words of Daryl Dixon: "Nothing can take the place of someone you love being gone. But that doesn't mean that everything that follows is gonna break your heart." I'm heartbroken to know that everything that follows isn't something I'll be able to share with him.

My life is dimmer for his departure, and so is the rest of the world. But I'm privileged to have known him for so many years, and honored to know that missing him so deeply will be the price I have to pay for such a wonderful gift.