My name is Ben, though Drew called me Benner, and I called him Drewer. Drew was my closest friend. I introduced him to his wife, Sachi, and served as Drew’s best man at their wedding. I first met him through our mutual friend Kaan while I was a college undergraduate, and our friendship quickly grew around our mutual interest in computers and racquetball.

In some ways, Drew was a very simple man. He was a hedonist. Food and speed brought him pleasure. Eric Cartman was his favorite character on South Park, he played Sade on the stereo whenever possible, and Hooper was among his favorite movies.

His standards for cleanliness were also simple at best. Once, I entered his truck to discover a smell so terrible I was unable to breathe. When I complained, he fished through the festering trash heap in the back seat of his truck to extract a two-week-old sandwich filled with putrid, rotting meat.

In other ways, though, Drew was quite complex. He always pushed his boundaries – physically, interpersonally, and intellectually.

Most of us know that Drew made a strong first impression. This was not always a good thing.

The boisterous, infectious laugh that ultimately catalyzed his relationship with Sachi turned heads in restaurants and left me a bit embarrassed to sit next to him in movie theaters.

Sachi hated Drew at first – and who can blame her? My first interaction with Drew was a bitter argument about the ease of learning the Perl computer programming language. It almost seemed that the more someone disliked Drew when they first met him, the closer they were destined to be to him.

But beyond his sometimes brash and uncouth outward presentation, Drew was a truly unique, exceptional human being.

Thanks in part to his eight-year undergraduate education, he was well-informed and opinionated on a wide range of topics that included government, technology, business, and religion. He had strong opinions which he voiced freely. He believed in technology’s ability to ultimately liberate society from the tyranny of capitalism. It was more than a little ironic that he married a high-powered venture capitalist.

Drew struggled to understand certain social conventions and helped illustrate the absurdity of some of the things we normally do.

For example, I guess Drew had heard at some point that opening a woman’s door was a chivalrous thing to do. Drew took this pleasantry to an extreme. He unyieldingly insisted on opening his wife’s car door when he parked, and became visibly offended if she tried to exit without his gentlemanly assistance.

As a second example, he appeared to be harboring a grudge against wait staff. Drew seemed to think Tipping was a city in China.

And then, of course, there was the hugging. Drew approached much of what he did full-body, and greetings were no exception. His big bear hugs left me searching for air.

Drew was an incredible friend, loyal to a fault. I’m not known for my stature, but when I walked next to Drew, I stood tall. Drew would have never hesitated to intercept any trouble that crossed my path. More than once, I had to personally restrain him from starting fights on my behalf. Drew didn’t care what strangers thought of him, but his capacity for kindness was immense.

I remember Drew’s incredible patience, too. He was a natural at tech support, and he was the first person I approached to talk through personal problems. It’s frustrating that the friend I would naturally look to for an honest, compassionate perspective on Drew’s death isn’t around to help guide me through it.

Drew was exceptional in his activities, among the best in the world in most cases.

Professionally, Drew was an expert in network and security administration – far and away the best I’ve ever known. He was relentless when it came to ensuring the stability and security of his computer infrastructure. To illustrate his utter success in achieving this goal, Drew was logged into Instant Messenger until yesterday morning, three days following his death. Even after Sachi and I disconnected the network cable from his computer, he remained online. His software infrastructure is impenetrable as well. A task force of several of Drew’s computer nerd friends have been unable as yet to log into his computer, even though he left us a Harry Potter-style hint on the screen as to what it might be.

A true sportsman, he loved a good hit in football but hated to see even his opponents injured. Drew didn’t fear death, but he wasn’t looking forward to the toll that aging would take on his body, that would ultimately deprive him of his abilities to participate competitively in racing, sand volleyball, racquetball, and wrestling.

Of all his sports, Drew loved racing motorcycles the most. Drew knew that I don’t know the first thing about motorcycles, but that never stopped him from excitedly describing the details of the latest model, sending me videos, and generally freaking out about speed on two wheels while he ignored my glazed-over eyes. Any financial decision Drew made would take into consideration his ability to buy a new motorcycle as a result. Motorcycle racing liberated him like nothing else could, and it eases my pain to know that Drew died doing something he loved.

Other than racing, there are a couple other things that come to mind when I think about what Drew truly loved in life. The first is something that I think would be obvious to anyone here, something he devoted a huge part of his life to: Warcraft, an online multiplayer computer game. Drew attained the highest rank as a Level 60 Warlock. He clearly pursued a career path that would maximize the time he could devote to playing Warcraft. Sachi, who has never played the game herself, can imitate the character voices to a tee. “More work?”

And that brings us to Sachi, his wife, and the love of his life. It’s rare to see a love as deep and pure as the one Drew shared with his wife. He placed Sachi at the center of his world. He supported her in everything she did and thrived on the support she gave him. He embraced their differences and cherished their common passions like athletics and technology. He improved himself in so many ways to bring himself closer to her. I have never seen him as happy as when he was with her.

When a person dies, it’s common to comfort yourself by saying that it was that person’s time, that they had lived a full life, that they had reached their pinnacle and achieved what they were put on Earth to do. But I don’t think Drew was ready to die.

For one, his career was blossoming. He was in the midst of a huge transition from working as a superstar system administrator to serving as Chief Technology Officer of a highly promising startup company, where he was directing the entire technology team.

For another, he was gung ho to keep racing. He was raving to anyone who’d listen about the new Yamaha R6es that were in transit to his endurance racing team, and he was excited about racing the new car Sachi had ordered. He was brimming with his usual vibrance and enthusiasm for life and adventure as he entered the race track last Sunday, and he had every expectation that he’d be sharing that excitement with us today.

But all that aside, there was the love of his life, Sachi. There’s simply no way he wanted to leave her now. Drew defined being “in love” as excitement about a future with a person. There is no question he was deeply in love with Sachi, excited about their future together, and I think the thing he would regret most about his passing is that he left her so soon.

In the end, though, I think Drew would’ve been honored and amazed to see the outpouring of support that you, his friends and family, are offering each other. Drew is a part of each of us. He gave us happiness, confidence, optimism, and love. I am honored to be here today to celebrate my friend’s life, and I walk away with a fond memory of that mischievous smirk we all know. Thank you for your friendship, Drewer. I love you, and I’ll never forget you.