Dear Adam Veenstra,
I did not make it to your funeral. I had to be in Milwaukee for work stuff, I am going to trust that you understand from where ever you are. I thought I would write this open letter to you, because I have had three people call me to tell me stories about you. I thought I would write something.
You and I have met only a handful of times, and really only spent a short amount of time together. You made a little impact on me, in that when I saw stories about you after you passed I thought, “Yeah, that dude was sort of amazing. I should have paid better attention.” Sorry about that, I am a bit of a dick.
I had three people call me and tell me cool stories about you. About your story itself. Some of the challenges, and nuts stuff you put yourself or were put through in your life. All of the stories seemed to contain, “None of that shit ever bummed him out, he just kept doing it.” I suppose, whatever IT was.
But every story over the last week or so has been amazingly like that. Start off with, “Did you know Adam?” The middle being some story that starts with a bad thing, and ends with a “He never let that get him down/define him/be the end of things.” and close with “You should really write about that guy.”
So, in respecting those wishes, I am writing about you Adam. It is the middle of the night, less than a week since you funeral, and I am stuck thinking about what it means to have an impact like that. You see, for some of us, that moment of sort of ‘infamy’ is real. That moment when you are in the scene, in the mix, running with the shadows of the night, whatever. You walk into every place you walk into, and someone there knows you.
That is a cool sensation. You might not get it when you are in the middle of it. You might be a horses ass like I was. But, you seem to have embraced it, been open to it, used it as a platform to give a little bit of light back to the universe. Every story I know about you has you giving light back to the universe. Giving back. Giving.
I did not know you man. I am not going to pretend. But, by any objective measure of a man, you were a noble and achieved fellow. You were known by many, embraced by more, and loved by what appears to be an equal number. Most men live a life of a lot of acquaintences, a few less friends, and even fewer that love us unconditonally.
But, you were loved Adam. And by all accounts you loved them all right back. I wish you well in where you end up these days. I hope you find some place quiet to sit down, and smile. Thank you for making the world a better place.