I loved Andrew Breitbart.
Ironically, it took an Andrew Breitbart to give me the courage to say publicly that I could love an Andrew Breitbart.
Andrew had the back of those who worried about a backlash to their livelihood. He was the bodyguard, the kid who stood up to the bullies. He was the bouncer you couldn’t elbow out of the doorway.
His best friend was his childhood pal and business partner, Larry. For many of us, though, Andrew was our best friend. If we didn’t have a brother, he filled that void. If we needed a mentor, he fit the bill. If we desired a third child, there was Andrew. For all of his incredible energy and gifts, it was, at times, like caring for a wild-eyed teenager with no sense of time and space. We didn’t mind taking him in, in fact, we arm-wrestled for the chance.
Many of us, including Andrew, live and lived for our nation’s military. I’ve often asked young American soldiers how they deal with the death of a buddy in combat. How do you keep going, do your job, continue to live and push forward? The answers are all profound and different. I will never have the courage of our nation’s bravest, but for the first time in my life, I have a sense of that empty foxhole. That notion, that though the fight is right, a chunk of me is gone — never to be filled.
There are great stories floating around about Andrew, and I have them too. I’m just too sad to lay them out.
Andrew loved music, was an aficionado. Today, I’m struck with the same feeling I have when a Jeff Buckley or Kurt Cobain dies too young. I lament for the songs they will never write. What path would have been chosen? Would they continue the meteoric prodigy rise, or lose the spark somewhere along the way? At a Lakers game a few weeks ago, Andrew was so excited about his new site launch that I got a mere three sentences in over dinner, rather than my usual six. Because Andrew was Andrew, his army is full of smart, passionate, soldiers who will continue his mission. Still, whatever becomes of the Breitbart Empire, his song will remain unfinished.
Appropriately, many conservatives are asking how we replace the irreplaceable Breitbart?
The answer is a cruel, cold. We can’t.
Closer to home, we are deeply concerned about Susie and the kids, and more selfishly asking, how can I ever replace my best friend?
Death’s answer is equally cold and final. You can’t.
Yes, Andrew would be laughing about trending on Twitter for 24 hours, be humbled by the love, and emboldened by the hate. I’m not a religious man, but I’d give my left arm for a retweet button in heaven.
On my instant message buddy list, Bodiaz is still is online.
This is brutal.
I hope they never turn that computer off.