I meant to step up and say this at his Celebration of Life, but I simultaneously chickened out and was lost in the shuffle. May this provide his loved ones with some comfort. 

Hi, my name is Dave Mills, I had the privilege of briefly knowing Eddie Sweat, and, while it’s good to see everybody, I hate to be here.
This was hard to write, and I predict disaster in the reading of it. My apologies in advance if this goes sideways. It is said that everyone mourns in their own way. Turns out my default mourn response is inexplicable weeping at seemingly random moments, missing turns, and walking into rooms and forgetting why. I am going to try and stay positive for the rest of this, but I read ahead, and I don’t think I was able to.
So then, onto the Celebration of Life. I looked into it, and near as I can tell, we are supposed to smile, laugh, and don’t have to wear our Sunday best. Celebration of Life. That feels like a liberal, politically correct, marketing word, no offense to any liberals in the room. At some point in the last few decades a business owner, no offense to the business owners in the room, called in a woefully underpaid marketing guy, a little offense intended there, and asked him to put the fun back in funeral. So they rebranded the tradition, and here we are, focusing on the greatness of Eddie’s life instead of the tragedy of his passing. Sounds good in theory, but I am struggling with the directions because I never imagined I’d be at Eddie’s Celebration of Life. He was supposed to be at mine.
I am a childless old man, and I was always happy with my decision not to procreate, and now, after witnessing the suffering of Eddie’s parents this last week, it confirms my decision. No one should ever have to endure the horrible pain they feel.

Parents today are among the very most courageous people on the planet in my eyes, it’s admirable. I’ve always viewed the world as a horribly corrupt and treacherous place, but today, the danger kids face, and the future they are left to contend with, it’s a whole new level of treacherous. I remember the shenanigans and bad choices I managed to survive as a teenager and I doubt I would have fared as well against the threats kids face today. Parents, please hug your babies close, and you kids, please let them. I don’t ever want to do anything like this again.
I expected to be less affected than I am. I felt shielded from the pain by the degrees of separation between me and parenthood. The minute I read that awful text, I got moving. I was going to be the rock Eddie’s family needed. I would hug them, love them, and try to keep things going as their world fell apart. When they were ready I’d help pick them up, dust them off, and get them back on track. I wanted to be that for them, but I am wrecked. It has been my privilege to be with the family this week and help where I could, but it will never feel like enough. The horrifying truth is that I am less affected. I am shielded by those degrees of separation, and that means the devastation Eddie’s family feels is, thank God, beyond my comprehension.
But this is supposed to be positive, and about Eddie, but as I said when I started, I only knew him briefly. I envy those of you that heard his jokes, advice, that went to the mall with him, or chilled and watched movies with him, and got to watch him grow up in person. I was going to be the guy he rode motorcycles and shot guns with. I’ll tell you a little about the few interactions Eddie and I did have.

Through friendship, and a variety of business relationships, with his father that spans almost thirty years, I met Eddie when he was brand new to the world. Ed and I changed jobs and cities, multiple times, and I watched Eddie grow up online with periodic updates from his proud father. The Sweat Family is a photogenic bunch, and their kids are pretty active, so there were lots of pictures. When I finally got to see Eddie in person again, almost eighteen years later, he was practically a grown man and I felt like we had some catching up to do. I thought I had more time.
He expressed an interest in motorcycles and guns and his father referred him to me as those two words are a fair description of my free time. I was eager to have a new riding buddy and, along with his father, guide him through the safe handling, proficiency, and maintenance of both bikes and guns. I was carefully unaggressive; I didn’t want to spook him with over-the-top enthusiasm from the weird, bearded, old guy. Again, I thought I had more time, I wish I just grabbed hold of him and forced him to enjoy my hobbies.
My favorite conversation with him went like this:
“So your dad tells me you want to get into motorcycles, learn to ride.”
“Yes,” Eddie replied with youthful absoluteness.
“Good,” I said. “Ultimately, what bike do you want to ride. What’s the dream?”
“An H2.” Again, youthful absoluteness, no hesitation, no doubt.
I smiled and nodded. “That’s the right answer,” I said.
I found my Padawan.
For the uninitiated among us, the Kawasaki Ninja H2 is a Supercharged 1000 cc sport bike, that produces 310 HP and has a confirmed top speed of 240 MPH. It’s not legal for the street. Eddie and I agreed that it was the absolute best way to spend thirty thousand dollars, and we’d fight anybody that said different.

Testament to the kindness of strangers we have an H2, the street legal version, here today. The man who owns it agreed to get his here for Eddie, without hesitation, and I feel like I can’t properly express my gratitude to him. He’s already refused compensation.
Back to Eddie’s future H2. While we agreed it’s the coolest bike on the planet, he agreed with me that it was an awful bike to learn on, so, baby steps, start small, and we started shopping. Dad was emotionally supportive of this dream, but not financially, and rightfully so. A young man needs to learn discipline and that dreams require effort to achieve. We started shopping anyway, we combed the internet, little 250’s, starter bikes, Groms even, and he started saving. His parents got him set up to take a riding course for his motorcycle endorsement. He’d send me used bike ads for bikes selling for the amount of money he had saved so far, and I’d tell him all the reasons they were not great deals and advise him to pass. 
He came to work at his father’s company. “Don’t go easy on him,” I heard his father tell Dan and Allen, who were Eddie’s immediate supervisors. “He makes it or doesn’t, on his own.” “If he screws up, handle it like you handle any other employee.” I agreed, but I did want Eddie to get some special treatment. I wanted Dan to tell anybody he rode with to fill the kid with knowledge. I told Dan and Allen, who collectively know more about our industry than anybody, ever, to put Eddie with the smart guys, especially if they were the type to share their brains with new guys.
Then the reports came back. He was working hard, asking questions, the meanest guy in the company asked for Eddie to be on his elite team of PV badasses. Dad tried to hide it from us, but we called him out, he was brimming with pride. I felt so great for them. I’ve never witnessed a better example of a father-son relationship.

I don’t mean to misrepresent mine and Eddie’s budding friendship. I was going slow, I thought we had years to develop it. I am sure it meant more to me than to him at the time. I’m sure we were at the beginning of a solid friendship though, at least I hoped we were. I didn’t really know him, but I was eager to, and there was the obvious about him. The obvious was that he was an excellent person, an excellent human, with a solid background of support and love. He was so clearly loved. His parents, the other adults in his life, his brothers, his friends, those who shaped him into the man he was eighteen years after I met him, are to be commended. That day I was teasing his father about his barely restrained pride, it’s further testament to Eddie Sweat’s excellence as a person.
I am up here talking about my selfish reasons for mourning Eddie. I had plans. So did everybody else we work with, his mom and dad, Ms Kristie, his brothers, friends, everybody, we all had plans for a future with Eddie, and mine were probably the most trivial. I never considered, for a moment, that anyone’s plans for Eddie were more important than ours, all of our plans combined.
I should have though. I am a Christian. I’m not the best Christian, at all, but I know to consider His plan, even if I don’t understand it, the most important one. God has a plan for all of us, Eddie too, and he called Eddie home before any of us were ready, and that sucks, but it sucks for us, not Eddie. Eddie is in the warm embrace of our Lord, and he will never suffer again. But why? For me, in my desperate search for reason in the midst of what feels like terrible injustice, I think I am supposed to move quicker. Quit procrastinating in my relationships.

Maybe it is to remind you parents to hug your babies, squeeze them tight, they’ll never be that age again. Tell them you love them. I’ve never heard Ed end a call with any of his boys without telling them he loves them. We joked that he might blurt it to one of his other techs and make things weird at work. Maybe that shouldn’t be weird. Maybe we need to call our parents, even if we’re mad at them, and fix what’s broken. Maybe he’s telling us all to not be so scared. Maybe he’s reminding us what’s really important. Maybe we’ll find out later. Maybe the lesson is different for everybody. Maybe we’ll never realize the lesson. It’s a frustration I’ve always had with God, his lack of clarity, or his hand in my inability to comprehend him.
Heaven for me is a long twisty road and a fast bike. When I get there I expect to see Eddie there on his H2. At the end of that long twisty road there will be a thousand yard gun range staffed by hot chicks with long legs and brains. That’s going to be our true “Celebration of Life” because this, and it really is good to see you all, but this, this is awful. Thank you for letting me speak.


To the Family of Eddie,

I am so sorry for your loss of your son, Eddie. I was his kindergarten Para at Nicholson Elementary School in Marietta, Ga. He had  the cutest dimples when he smiled & his eyes twinkled! Once a Nicholson Star, always a Nicholson Star. ~May he continue to shine above us & watch over us...

Sandie Frigerio
(aka Mrs. Frigerio)

Eddie was my dear friend. He helped me through some of the hardest times of my life and inspired me in so many ways. He taught  me how to deal with things and how to move forward in life without worrying about the past. He touched the hearts of all the people he met and was a truly great friend. RIP Eddie shits not the same without you bro

Our hearts are breaking for you and your family,  it is unimaginable what you are going through, sending lots of love and praying that you find some comfort in the memories and good things that will flood your minds.  Our deepest sympathies for  the loss of such a wonderful young man. 

eddie has such a beautiful soul. he was the best thing to ever happen to me. we had many differences, but no matter what, we would always make it through. eddies passing took a piece of me i never knew i needed. he is my soul mate. i will forever keep him in my heart and keep spreading the wisdom i was so lucky to get from him. he taught me how to love so deeply and how to see the bigger picture in every situation. i love you bubby, i cant wait to see you again. 

OBITUARY

Eddie Sweat II

August 14, 2003 – August 22, 2021

Baldwin Fairchild Funeral Home

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