Asad Ali
06-01 2021 02:01
wrote:
I’ll really miss Kye. He was brilliant, and his love was infectious. He had grand ideas, a big heart and marvellous quirks. Kye ate kiwi fruits like one eats an apple. I still don’t understand that, but it doesn’t matter. Kye was genuinely himself.
Every day at lunch time Kye, Dylan, and I would head to the park across the office. We’d walk through the park discussing work, the day’s events, friends, relationships, Kye’s fashion choices.
Sometimes, Kye and I would grab the corner booth at the sushi restaurant across the road. We’d get away from the office to share the juicy happenings. Kye loved miso soup, so he always had mine. Always, Kye would generously offer to pay for my meal.
In the evenings, we’d take the subway home with Dylan. There was no shortage of topics to discuss. On many occasions I’d ride for one or two stops extra, just to hear Kye’s review on the latest bad horror movie he’d just watched. Kye would entertain all of my silly ideas and encourage me. One time I told him I wanted to design subway tiles, and lettering (genuinely). Kye supported me, and said he thought I’d do a great job at it.
Kye was always up for doing all of my mundane errands with me too. We’d walk along Bloor street picking up a book, or something I needed for dinner that night. Kye somehow always had space for a snack or two. I remember many evenings on the benches in Jean Sibelius park chatting about retro video games; fitting since we were so close to Kye’s childhood home.
If I drove home, Kye would come along for the ride. We’d spend hours (literally) parked in the car outside his mum’s place, contemplating life’s questions - big or small. At some point in 2017, all our conversations were about Apartment Rank. Kye had started up an apartment matching business. I was his guinea pig, his critic, and most of all, his unpaid co-founder. As I looked through an email I received from his system, I smiled when I saw a question that embodied Kye’s playful nature - “What age are you, in spirit?”. No realtor has ever asked me that.
The last time we hung out, we shared a BBQ platter. In true fashion, we ate too much, and drove around for longer than was necessary, just to catch up some more.
Kye showed me how what it means to be genuine and care for your friends. He was there whenever I wanted to hang out. When I newly became a father, Kye put his arm around me and asked how I was doing. I can still remember that day.
Christine, I am so sorry for your loss. Kye loved you incredibly. The world could do with a few more souls like Kye’s.
I'll really miss ya, pal.
Asad Ali
06-01 2021 02:01
wrote:
I’ll really miss Kye. He was brilliant, and his love was infectious. He had grand ideas, a big heart and marvellous quirks. Kye ate kiwi fruits like one eats an apple. I still don’t understand that, but it doesn’t matter. Kye was genuinely himself.
Every day at lunch time Kye, Dylan, and I would head to the park across the office. We’d walk through the park discussing work, the day’s events, friends, relationships, Kye’s fashion choices.
Sometimes, Kye and I would grab the corner booth at the sushi restaurant across the road. We’d get away from the office to share the juicy happenings. Kye loved miso soup, so he always had mine. Always, Kye would generously offer to pay for my meal.
In the evenings, we’d take the subway home with Dylan. There was no shortage of topics to discuss. On many occasions I’d ride for one or two stops extra, just to hear Kye’s review on the latest bad horror movie he’d just watched. Kye would entertain all of my silly ideas and encourage me. One time I told him I wanted to design subway tiles, and lettering (genuinely). Kye supported me, and said he thought I’d do a great job at it.
Kye was always up for doing all of my mundane errands with me too. We’d walk along Bloor street picking up a book, or something I needed for dinner that night. Kye somehow always had space for a snack or two. I remember many evenings on the benches in Jean Sibelius park chatting about retro video games; fitting since we were so close to Kye’s childhood home.
If I drove home, Kye would come along for the ride. We’d spend hours (literally) parked in the car outside his mum’s place, contemplating life’s questions - big or small. At some point in 2017, all our conversations were about Apartment Rank. Kye had started up an apartment matching business. I was his guinea pig, his critic, and most of all, his unpaid co-founder. As I looked through an email I received from his system, I smiled when I saw a question that embodied Kye’s playful nature - “What age are you, in spirit?”. No realtor has ever asked me that.
The last time we hung out, we shared a BBQ platter. In true fashion, we ate too much, and drove around for longer than was necessary, just to catch up some more.
Kye showed me how what it means to be genuine and care for your friends. He was there whenever I wanted to hang out. When I newly became a father, Kye put his arm around me and asked how I was doing. I can still remember that day.
Christine, I am so sorry for your loss. Kye loved you incredibly. The world could do with a few more souls like Kye’s.
I'll really miss ya, pal.