A lifelong friendship

I met Hayden when we were in the fourth grade. I was on the driveway one afternoon toward the start of the school year, probably drawing pictures with chalk. Hayden came walking down the road with his dog, Walter. To say Walter was big would be an understatement. He was a Great Dane Mastiff mix, so it might be more accurate to say he was walking Hayden if not for Walter's mild manners. We recognized each other from class, started talking, and became fast friends. We were pretty inseparable from that point forward.

Over the next twenty years, Hayden taught me what it was to have (and to be) a lifelong friend. We developed inside jokes, shared (and achieved) plans to someday be roommates, and supported each other through the most difficult times in each others' lives. Our lives went different directions as we got older, but like many close friendships, that never mattered. Hayden remained my best friend even through weeks, even through months of not speaking.

Growing up, Hayden was just always the toughest one among us kids. He was the fastest, the strongest, the bravest. He would be the first one to take on a dare to tackle the biggest jump on his bike or the one who jumped into the lake from the highest point. Despite his toughness, though, Hayden was no stranger to pain. Hayden had bipolar disorder, so the low lows dragged him down heavily, driving a compassionate, fun-loving kid to feel pain and sadness that was no doubt hard to understand.

The first sign I had ever seen of this pain was when we were teenagers. We were on a trip to camp and sightsee at Kartchner Caverns in Arizona, not far from where we grew up. Hayden and I helped ourselves to the liquor we managed to find and proceeded to get schwasted around the campfire. It was so long ago (and maybe also some other reasons) that I don't remember the details, but I do remember a significant moment at the end of that night. I had just come back to the campsite and Hayden's mom was comforting him. He had been crying, but I could tell he was trying to keep it together. He had told his mother he didn't want to be alive anymore. At the time, I thought this was an interaction between alcohol and his acne medication, but it was actually my first glimpse into Hayden's real world.

When we were 22 or 23 years old, Hayden and his partner, Mikayla, had a daughter. Layla was less than one month old when she unexpectedly passed away. It was devastating for them. But despite this heartbreak, Hayden's strength shone through. Broken and grieving through tears and gritted teeth, but as strong as ever, Hayden stood strong for Mikayla, just as she did for him. They leaned on each other and got through it together this way. Several years later, they had another daughter, and soon they were married as well.

The ceremony was beautiful, and it is a great memory and honor to have been a part of that day. Hayden's other best friend, Casey, and I were his groomsmen and I joked during my speech that I'll keep it short and, as half of the best man, deliver half of a speech. Hayden's cousin Drake took his shirt off during the ceremony (we expected no less). It was beautiful.

After they were married, Hayden and Mikayla soon moved to Florida. I was living in Northwest Florida at the time, and they moved to Central Florida. So although they were still several hours away, at least we could see each other more often. And we did! I have memories that are very dear to me from when he visited me at my house for the first time. Today, the house is for sale, so it's empty and quiet, but I can still see him standing in the middle of the living area, playing Beat Saber on our VR headset as he'd never tried one before. It's bittersweet to stand there and look where he stood. One second you're smiling and looking back on a great memory, and the next you're choked up.

These paragraphs do nothing to capture what his friendship has meant to me, but I felt compelled to write them anyway. I guess my hope is that I can honor his memory in some way, or share some meaningful memories with those who may or may not have known him.

The rest of this post was written in the weeks during and immediately following Hayden's passing.

Vibe Shift

It was fairly early the Friday morning following Thanksgiving 2025 when Mikayla called. I knew immediately something had to have been wrong -- she didn't call me, ever. Not unless I was with Hayden or there was some other reason. And now she was calling me at 7am? My heart dropped. What happened?

That was when Mikayla told me tearfully that Hayden, who'd been my closest friend since the fourth grade, had shot himself the morning prior. He was now in the ICU in a coma.

Without thinking, I stopped getting ready for work and started getting ready to make the 6-hour drive to south Florida where he was hospitalized. It was a long drive there, but I arrived that night and saw my friend in the hospital. He had a hell of a black eye and his face was very swollen, but otherwise he just looked like himself—like Hayden, like he was just sleeping. The nurse was very kind and informed us at every turn of what was happening and why.

The following week was a blur. I know I went back to work, but I can't tell you much about what I did. As I'm writing this, it's December 10th, only two weeks since the event. I'm still reeling, and yesterday I was informed Hayden will soon be taken off life support. My buddy and I have made our last memory together already.

The project I was working on at the time has been an interesting one since then because, as a coping mechanism, I dove deeper into working on it. I tell myself that it's a distraction from these current events, but he's never far from my mind the whole time I'm working on this project anyway. It doesn't stop me from thinking about what-ifs. What if I'd called him on Wednesday? Would we still be here if I had? And it doesn't stop me from remembering our childhood together. We would ride bikes after school every day, often biking to school and leaving from there to get into whatever trouble we were in for that day. Nor does it stop me from feeling so deeply for his daughter, who, at only five, now has this as part of her story.

I believe Hayden wasn't thinking clearly and wasn't in his right mind when he chose to end his life. He loved his daughter too much, fought for his marriage too hard to just peace out like this. He couldn't have been in his right mind. It is both heartbreaking and comforting to think this decision isn't the one he would have made, had he been able to think with the clarity we usually have in our day-to-day lives.

As I was writing this section, I received a one-word text from Mikayla:

Friday

So, that's it. Friday's the day. On Friday Hayden will be taken off life support and 20 years of memories come to an end. It hurts to know there will be no new ones with him. It hurts to know I won't hear his laugh again or get to FaceTime him while on a walk around the neighborhood to see how things are going.

I'll never forget his laugh, though. I'll never forget meeting him when I spotted a classmate walking by my house with a huge Great Dane Mastiff mix. (His name was Walter and he was an awesome dog). I'll never forget playing all the video games we played together. All of the original Halo games. I'll never forget commentating the stunt mode in FlatOut and acting like a judge's panel with you. I'll never forget emptying a can of Axe body spray in my room to cover up a fart and making the room smell so much worse than a fart ever could... That room probably smells like Axe body spray to this day. I'll never forget playing Halo 3 with you on John's Xbox 360, when you would throw me a pretzel for every one you ate, but I wasn't as big of a fan of pretzels as you were, so by 30 minutes in, I had about 30 pretzels sitting on me and you thought it was the funniest thing. I'll never forget getting into biking with you and hitting the Walgreens jumps after school every day. I'll never forget going boating with you and your parents. Or climbing mountains and fishing together (but catching nothing) in Prescott. Or the trips to Rocky Point. Or how bad you were at the saxophone.

I'm going to miss you, Hayden. Rest easy, you big dumb bitch. I love you, man.

July 15, 1996 — Thursday, December 11, 2025 at 10:17am

On the morning Hayden was scheduled to be taken off life support, for the first time since this ordeal began, Hayden tracked movement with his eyes and gave his nurse a thumbs-up in response to her. Mikayla rushed to the hospital to hopefully greet him and be there for him, but as she arrived, Hayden's vitals began crashing and he suffered a brain hemorrhage which then claimed his life.

Hayden will be missed more dearly than words can say. The world is a little more dull without him here. Miss you buddy. I always will.