My final year of art school brought two notable people into my life. One of them is my wife of 31 years. The other is Colin, a classmate I lost contact with after graduation but recently reconnected.

Colin and I collaborated on our respective senior projects at RISD. Colin was a film/video major and I was a graphic design major. I convinced Colin to combine his senior project with mine as a joint submission.

I had this idea to create a documentary film about the purpose and value of a design education. I knew almost nothing about the subject other than my own experience as a design student. I had never worked on a film before and didn’t know how to write a script, conduct interviews, or edit video. But at 22, I was naive enough to jump into this project without much thought.

I’m grateful that Colin felt the same way because I’ve never had so much fun collaborating on a project. Colin and I didn’t really know each other prior to this but we spent several months together in the Winter and Spring of 1990 traveling, scripting, conducting interviews, filming and editing. During the entire adventure Colin displayed his tremendous talent, patience, and graciousness.

Personality-wise, Colin and I were polar opposites. He was laid-back, confident, and soft-spoken. I was an anal retentive perfectionist who was wound tighter than a Swiss clock. I’m sure it was amusing for others who observed this odd couple.

One of my most vivid memories was being locked in an editing booth with Colin for the better part of three days, distilling hundreds of hours of video down to 22 minutes. These were the pre-digital days and Colin and I had to tap a friend of his to create the on-screen titling because the equipment we were using to edit the film didn’t have that capability. My wife-to-be would bring food to the editing booth and make sure Colin didn’t strangle me. Maybe the only reason he didn’t was because I was the film’s narrator.

Our senior project eventually came together and both Colin and I received high praise from our respective professors and project advisors. After graduation we went our separate ways and I mostly forgot about the project until about six years ago when I was packing up a box of family home videos to be digitized and decided to include the VHS tape of my senior project. I reached out to Colin and sent him a link to the video. He responded and thanked me for the trip down memory lane, said the 30-year-old student film held up better than he expected, and quipped that I may have missed my calling as a professional narrator.

Since reconnecting with Colin in 2016, I learned about what he had been doing since graduation. He settled in Brooklyn but travelled extensively and kept dozens of sketchbooks about the different places he visited. He had a couple of stints as a Creative Director and then ran his own design company for 10 years. His second marriage was to a RISD classmate he reconnected with at their 25th class reunion and he was enjoying learning how to become a good step-dad to three girls.

This past May Colin received news he had cancer. It was a huge blow to him and his family. He chronicled his experiences with chemotherapy treatment. His posts were insightful, touching, funny, and so human. For a while it looked like he was beating the disease and I had even sent him a message and told him I looked forward to reconnecting with him at our upcoming class reunion. Three weeks ago he posted a message on social media that he was terminal.

Colin’s friends set up a Meal Train page, collected food and financial donations to help out with expenses, and posted updates on Colin’s condition. A few days ago, Colin’s wife posted a farewell tribute to him. He had passed away.

Fuck.

I don’t know why Colin’s death grieves as much as it does. We hadn’t really stayed in touch since graduation. I wasn’t in his current circle of friends. We simply shared a few months of working together over 30 years ago. Maybe the pandemic has altered my perspective on human life and relationships. Maybe I’m grieving the loss of what could have been — choices I didn’t make but should have. I don’t know.

The few months I spent with Colin all those years ago has made me a better person. I just wish I could collaborate with him one more time and get to know the person he was without the filter of my youthful self-focus.