On Monday, October 20th, at 10:55 PM, the world got a little bit darker.
Nicholas “Hunter” Davis passed away from complications from glioblastoma, a brain tumor that had plagued him for over 3 years. Author, music hound, wanderer, companion, lover, dreamer, spiritualist and seeker of the unknown—a few words from the volume that describe this great man.
Hunter would give you the shirt off his back, even though it was his last one, and fraying at the seams. He would flip back his hair, whistle a tune—slapping his thigh to the beat you would never recognize— take instant mashed potatoes (probably the only thing he had left in the pantry) and turn them into a culinary, gut-bombing masterpiece for you two to share. You would always get the larger half.
As with all dreamers, sometimes you would have to reel Hunter in. Anyone who knew Hunter was familiar with his penchant for getting stranded in Portland late at night—too busy catching up with friends and exploring downtown to bother with things like public transportation schedules. He was never without a place to sleep, though—the circle of people who loved him and offered him their couches for the night were outnumbered only by those who would themselves be out and about, exploring the city with him.
Husband, son, brother, friend – Hunter was one of those people that you never forget—even if only met in passing. His death has affected us all more than we would like to admit, and are each working hard to remember him for who he was, and who we will see again someday.
"You feel, nothing ever stays the same as it was
You'll take, no more remedies to force yourself true
You say, every motion and fall fail you too
This song is not about you
The life that stands without you
Your body and blood
Your body and blood
You're leaving us all."
-Black Rebel Motorcycle Club “Head Up High”
