From Wes’s friend Mindy:
I’m lighting a candle for my best buddy Wesley Charles Green. He was a lover of life and people. He liked to take his shoes off outside to get grounded. And it didn’t really matter where we were. He loved books. And he was never without at least one (or 10). He collected National Geographic’s and loved to show them off. He was brilliant. He loved music, playing the Fender acoustic (the good guitar he would say) and his harmonica. He loved writing and button-down shirts. He loved Indian food, Kombucha, milk, and warm soup with oyster crackers. He loved “hashing it out” with just about anyone. He loved his tools and his beloved rake (it’s safe and sound in my garage, Wes). He loved his good buddy Martin (Martino as he would say) and working with him, learning from him, and just talking when he needed a kind friend.
And if you know Wes, there was a lot of listening (he would always tell me he talked too much). At times he was infuriating and exhausting. He was also kind, gentle and loving. He gave the best hugs, fist pumps and hip checks. He was so handsome and had an infectious laugh. He was funny, charming and people were drawn to him. He lost things all the time.
He had Wes-isms: whatever’s clever, the proof is in the pudding, nothing is lost on you to name a few. He spoke often of his love for his mother (his best friend and supporter he would say) and his entire family. He shared many happy memories and I know he loved and missed them. He brought joy to my life and made it richer in so many ways. He reminded me that we’re all just human. We all have a story and life is never a straight line. Some take more twists and turns than others, but the important thing is to keep trying. And it’s okay to ask for help.
There weren’t many days I didn’t speak to him or see him over the past five months. Step by step (as his Aunt Patty would say), we were on a positive path to a better life for him; he called me the master of lists. What’s the next thing he would say. He was proud of his progress. He was complicated and broken in many ways, but he was in there. The real Wes, I would tell him, I see you.
We lost him 12/21/22. My heart is broken. But I know he is finally free, flying high beyond the stars, with his mother, and his shoes off, feeling more grounded than ever. You can rest now, buddy. I love you. Melinda
Wes’s Leaf is at the Ballard Library. If you have photos or memories to share, please post a comment.
Photos from Mindy