The Death of Friends
thegavoice.comIn December, I received a text from a stranger that my friend Ryan Jung had been found dead in his home in Johns Creek. I met Ryan, a realtor, about 15 years ago when we were both waylaid by the recession and had too much time on our hands.
He drove his Porsche to Midtown every day and had his nails prettified weekly at a salon at Ansley Mall while I labored with filthy fingernails on my doctoral dissertation at Starbucks.
A few years later, we began going to dinner every Friday night with a group of other men, and I often featured our sometimes-dramatic meals in my dining column for Creative Loafing.
Ryan returned to work and acquired a fancy SUV with three rows of seats. He drove all of us to dinner weekly until COVID-19 arrived in 2020 and we stopped dining.
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