Gauge Alain Friday

In Loving Memory of Gauge

Gauge was 21 years old. And if you knew him, you knew there was just something about him. He was so charismatic. He had this light about him that you just couldn’t explain. He could walk into a room and somehow make it better just by being Gauge.

He loved his video games. He loved Goku Black, Dragon Ball Z, anime, Playboi Carti, and playing Fortnite with his little brothers. He loved riding his longboard. And apparently, he thought hoodies were appropriate when it was 100 degrees outside. And that boy literally lived on mac and cheese, ramen and pizza rolls. Those were his meals. Like… literally. Somehow he survived on those three things.

But honestly, those are the little things I’m going to hold onto. Because when I think of Gauge, I think about his hugs. And if you ever got a Gauge hug, you know exactly what I mean. Those hugs were unmatched. They were the kind of hugs you felt.

I think about the way he loved his brothers, his sister and his cousins. Those were his people. He loved them more than anything in this world. And Gauge was everybody’s biggest hype man. He could make you feel like you could do anything. He knew how to make you laugh when you didn’t feel like smiling. He just had a way of making people feel good.

That was my son.

And now, somehow, in the middle of the worst pain I have ever felt as a mother, Gauge is still finding a way to be that person. Because his life is going to keep going through other people. His heart, his organs, pieces of the boy that I made, loved, raised, and would give absolutely anything to hold again… are going to give someone else a chance. And I’m not going to lie. Sometimes that thought breaks me all over again. Because I don’t want to share my son.

I want him back.

I want to hear him laugh. I want to see him walk through the door in a hoodie when it’s 100 degrees outside. I want to hear him talking about a game or anime. I want to see him riding that longboard. I want one more hug. I would give anything for one more hug.

But I also know Gauge. And I know he would want somebody else to have a chance.

So today, as we raise this flag, I just want people to remember Gauge for who he really was. Not just for what happened to him.

He was a 21-year-old son. A brother. A cousin. A friend. Everybody’s hype man. A gamer. An anime lover. A longboarder. A kid who could make you laugh and make you feel loved.

My son.

And even though my heart is completely shattered and I don’t know how I’m ever going to put all these pieces back together, I am so damn proud of him.

Gauge didn’t get the chance to live the long life I dreamed he would. But because of him, someone else may get that chance.

And maybe that’s how his light keeps going.

Maybe every heartbeat, every breath, every life that gets touched because of Gauge is another little piece of him reminding us that he was here.

That he mattered.

That he was loved.

And that he will never, ever be forgotten.

I love you, Gauge.