RIP Iggy

I don't think I've ever met anyone else quite like Iggy. And I doubt I ever will. Yes, the world is a lonlier place without Chris Rioux's biological father. But we are richer for having known him.

I remember the first time I met Iggy. I was at Chris's house and we were watching TV in his living room on a Saturday morning in spring. Suddenly, the door burst open. All the Riouxs were home and no one had knocked. In strode a short man with astounding girth, bushy white hair, a thick gray beard, and the odor of a dumpster behind any fast food restaurant. I thought that this Wolfman had broken into the house and was going to stab us all the rob the Rioux family of all their possessions. But it was just Iggy. Iggy was a longtime friend of the Rioux family, ever since he had conceived Chris in an illicit affair with Mary. I realized that I had nothing to fear when Chris sat motionless on the couch as I grabbed the largest, heaviest thing I could find with which to defend myself against this grizzled hobo.

I had nothing to worry about, of course. Iggy was, above all, a man of peace. Sure, he was dealt a tough hand in life. But he never complained. All he asked for was enough to get by, his garbage-filled pickup truck, and friendship.

I only saw Iggy once more before he passed away. He asked me, Chris, Justin, and Pat Manila to help him move an engine from the garage into his truck. He was worse for wear by then. To breathe, he had to use a tube jutting out of his throat. His waddle was more pronounced than the first time I saw him. His truck had fallen into disrepair, with garbage filling the whole of the passenger seat, without exaggeration, from the floor to the roof. There was literally a wall of garbage from the window to about where Iggy's ample frame rested when he drove. Though physically his body was giving up on him, he still had that blaze of humanity in his eyes. Iggy never stopped loving life. And I think that's what I'll remember about him long after I forget about how I thought he was going to cut my throat from ear to ear the first time I saw him.

Rest in peace, old friend.