Just a quick post tonight. Earlier on today, a good (I’m not going to say “old” because he’s 18 months younger than me) friend posted a message on Facebook inviting people to join him for a drink this evening and mark the day 11 years ago when a friend passed away.
In all honesty, my first reaction was one of disbelief at the length of time involved, although when I sat for a second and thought about where I was living and working at the time, I realised that it was 11 years right enough. Shit.
I came to know Alec Cooper through my friendship with Alan. Alec was a part-time DJ who used to love mixing music for his friends and revelling in their enjoyment of his sometimes really eclectic and random mixes. He wasn’t much for going out clubbing but when we could persuade him to, he’d be the life and soul. My memory of him is as a really funny guy. Not a comedian per se, but just someone who could deliver a dry one-liner and have everyone in stitches.
I will never forget the night eleven years ago when Alan phoned me to say that Cooper was dead. He’d committed suicide and none of us had seen it coming. He was clearly burdened and didn’t feel that he could turn to anyone, so took what he felt was the only way out.
Whatever it was that troubled Cooper, he will undoubtedly have ended up in a better place as a result of his death. I like to think that wherever he is, there’s an amazing party in progress, and he’s smiling his enormous smile.