Anthony Bourdain would have been 67, June 26th of 2023. The demons won and we lost him to them in 2018. Truly befitting that going in that day, I made one of his favorite things: roasted bone marrow. To continue the truly hedonistic celebration, spent a day with friends eating our way through Thai, Vietnamese, Spanish, Mexican and Chinese food, plus two oyster trays, and ended it with massages.
The man lived. He really did. He found the highest of highs, and faced really intense lows. But he loved. He loved so many people. He wrote about humanity so well. He was the narrator we never thought we needed, and we are all the more empty now that he’s gone.
His passion was undeniable, and he was flawed as hell. He took everything to heart and it broke him in the end. I hope he’s found peace where he is.
I will end this with writing that is better than mine, because it was his.
“As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life — and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”
