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Justin "J-man" Graham
Justin "J-man" Graham
A craftsman, a cousin, a friend. A brother.
The unexpected loss of someone so close is unfathomable, and no words can truly describe the way you lose a part of yourself when you lose them in that moment. You may spend your whole life trying to find that piece again. Some fall into self destructive habits to fill the void left behind, some lean on religion and promises of reunion with absolution.
At the end of 2022 a cornerstone of my and so many other people's lives was unexpectedly pulled away, and I felt what it was like to have my sense of reality fall out from under me. You brace for the loss of older family members with time, and it will still hurt. But to lose someone so young, that you lived with, grew up with, and spoke to almost every night, all so unexpectedly, was a pain I'd never felt before.
But I don't want to selfishly bury my own sorrow in self destructive habits (he'd be pissed if he knew someone did that because of him). Nor do I find resolute solace assuming we might some day meet in another 'life' (He'd probably be annoyed by this too for other reasons, knowing him).
J tackled life head on. Said yes to any challenge, and when faced with stagnation, demanded adventure. The man was also stubborn incarnate at his core, yet filtered by way of his actions he came across as the embodiment of dedication.
That was who he was.
He was always a craftsman and loved to work with metal. It was in his blood. We grew up around our grandfather who was by all rights a master crafts/tradesman and if he felt like it that day? A blacksmith. He defied the phrase and managed to be both a Jack-of-all-trades & master of all. And he was Justin's hero. He learned everything he could from that man, and would spend as much time as possible at his side in the workshop, in the scrapyard, or in the field.
In 2018 Justin would have his whole life upended by the Camp Fire, the deadliest and destructive wildfires in CA history. Lucky to even make it out, Justin's entire street was consumed by the fire as it spread up the side of the hill and blocked the only road on to their street from the main road. He and his dad had to drive through a barbed wire fence which got wrapped around and up into the axle of their only car, leaving it disabled and them stranded.
Despite his attempts to crawl under the car with wire cutters in the middle of a literal hellish firestorm to cut them free, he couldn't cut enough away to free the mangled mess and allow the car to move. According to him, It was a passing neighbor who managed to pull into the nearby lot and load them into his truck, and that was the only reason they made it out.
Over time he pushed himself, sometimes, far more than he should have, to try and move on from the trauma that he went through in an attempt to work and build back up to where he was before. Both in his custom and designer blade collections, and his own smith work. Even when his temporary housing situation post-Camp Fire was limited in workshop space, he found ways to stay active. Making knives out of old metal files and whittling handles any chance he had, buying better materials in small batches, getting tools and other things gifted over time and waiting for his chance to do more.
That was who he was.
He got knocked down, hard by the universe and he stood back up, dusted himself off, and from under the brim of a black hat without bothering to even make eye contact, gave the single biggest middle finger a person could give straight back.
A memory that will always stick with me from when we were kids: Riding dirt bikes in the trails where we grew up. He'd been hyping himself up to jump a ramp he'd had his eye on all day but it was the tallest he'd ever jumped. When he finally pushed himself to do it as the last jump of the day- he crashed. Hard. Bent the bars of his bike, and (we'd later find out) fractured his wrist.
But before he rode his busted bike back to the house, he kept staring at the jump and he flipped back around and said something I'll never forget:
"I'm hurt...And that sucked. But if I don't at least try it again now, then next time, I'm going to overthink it and be afraid of trying it again."
And sure enough, he did it again. But this time he managed to stick the landing, bent handlebars and broken wrist be damned.
That was who he will always be.
Someone who raised a middle finger to the universe after so many cheap-shots that the universe decided to have a one-on-one conversation.
Never wanted to start a studio project without you, brother. Wanted it to be something you'd be helping me build from day one.
Afraid I'm not going to do right by your name. But if I don't at least try now, I'm going to overthink it and be afraid of trying it again in the future.
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