Not a day goes by that I don't think about him. Knowing that I can no longer pick up the phone and see how he's doing is tough. Deleting his phone number out of my phone was immensely tough. Knowing that my friend was in pain, and there was nothing I could do to help him, may be paramount and most bothersome. I have never had a friend like him, and likely never will again - I don't have words that can explain the difficulty of this.
I try to remember how important it was to have known him, learned from him, and grown because of him. I have never felt such pain and loss that ceases to fade. Miles was such a unique character who drew people towards him. Meeting people at his memorial, and hearing their stories of how he enhanced their lives, was no surprise.
Miles and I had a lot in common: we both broke our necks and recovered, took great pleasure in coffee and beer, but the thing that connected us from the start was our mutual, deep respect and love of surfing. I got into home-brewing beer after hearing him tell me about a mocha porter he made. He taught me how important it is to have a continual stoke of surfing, enjoy being out there because surfing in general is better than doing a lot of other activities...like work. He introduced me to multiple surf sessions in a day, having a beer in the shower, but most importantly; kindness to people of all walks. I have never witnessed anyone with such respect for people in general. Miles was so courteous and cordial to everyone he met. He would go out of his way to help people, give people the right-of-way, open doors... even waving to everyone he would see around town while driving.
Miles would jokingly end most phone calls with "I love you".
He was probably a better surfer than I, certainly having surfed longer. He would make a point to do or say things sometimes, like complimenting my surfing; "that was a nice turn, lots of spray" or even just telling me how much better I was surfing since the last time he saw me.
I remember after he died, trying to call his phone, like maybe it was all a hoax, a misunderstanding, and he would pick up the phone and jokingly explain it all... Then hearing his voice-mail and his voice, and a dark feeling would wash over me, and remind me of reality.
I wish I could go back and say one last goodbye (something I really didn't even get to do formally when I saw him last in Crescent City, he was gone the morning I left, on a day trip to Oregon).
I feel a void inside just trying to understand that Miles is truly gone. A great friend who's life was cut far too short. Camping at Big Flat and staying at his house in Crescent City in the Fall of 2010 would be the last time I would see him alive. We had a tremendously good time together camping creekside, doing some work on a ranch, surfing daily, sharing some beers and some laughs in the evenings.
This post is a dedication to my good friend, and all the memories we shared together over the years. Thank you for changing my life Miles, I love you and miss you. I'll see you in the water again one day, and we can share some waves once more. Until then, I'll be out in the line up, trying to get that next barrel for ya...
Three weeks after Miles died, a service was held at a local restaurant in Crescent City where family and friends came to reflect and reminisce on his life. The following morning, a paddle-out ensued to honor his love of surfing, and provided the oppurtunity to have his father and brother spread his ashes to the ocean that he so dearly loved.
Shortly after Miles' death, I contacted Surfline.com to find out about posting something about Miles. It took me until early June to compile a short piece that can be seen here:
http://www.surfline.com/surf-news/press-release/long-time-surfer-miles-vaughan-passes-away_56489/
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