Mike,  Every time I step on set, hear The Smiths or anything from the 1980s, try to use a C-stand, travel through West Virginia, eat vegetarian food, watch The Fifth Element, see a Pop-Tart, or spot a green 25' Stanley tape measure—model #30-925—and so many, many more—I will forever think of you.

Honestly, it's the things I won't see or hear anymore that make me so deeply sad—your quick wit, your amazing grip rigs, literally watching your brain work, learning the make of every single plane that flies overhead, hanging out in a hotel room talking about the last time we hung out in a hotel room, sharing our stories of shitty jobs, and you saving my ass on every single one of them (seriously). Your laugh, your jokes, your guidance, your love.

Damn, this is so hard...

I want you to know that this wacky community of carnival freaks that is film production will never be the same. We lost a great person who made the hard days better and made me genuinely happy. Every stupid—I mean stupid—idea I came up with, you were ready to help, and I am forever grateful. Knowing your name was on the call sheet always made me feel supported—I knew that whatever shit came our way, you had my back because you were and will always be an amazing friend.

What all of this is trying to say is, I love you—I truly do.