Welcome back to Wulfhūs, Seekers.

I couldn’t resist, but write yet another blog about grief – this time focusing more specifically on the loss of my best friend. I needed to put it somewhere, so here I am.

Joseph Nyagechi Morema, 29, passed away 04/21/2026 from a motorcycle crash. He lost control of his motorcycle when he hit some gravel in Eagan, MN. Joseph suffered significant injuries, and was pronounced dead on-site from the impact.

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Joseph was like a brother to me. He had times where he was intense, times when he was quite goofy, times when he led by example, times where he was my saving grace and my Northern bearing. We’ve shared many memories, both good and bad. Even in times we had fallen out of touch, whether briefly or for significantly too long of time, we were always right back at each other’s door in due time.

Joseph served, like me, in the Minnesota National Guard. He had chosen the career path to be a Combat Engineer, I had chosen to become a Cavalry Scout. We enlisted at roughly the same time – though never had the privelage to actually serve in combat together.

Joseph was strong. Stronger than me – both physically and mentally – but we were always like two peas in pod. He was the definition of a ride or die homie.

There were times where we’d take our nice cars – a shared interest, and we’d just drive around trying to find that new girlfriend together; be each other’s wingman, and did a lot of impulsive driving. There would be days where we’d be like: “Hey, where do you want to drive to today?” We’d just drive, with no destination in sight. There is a vividly familiar time, where we drove out to Stillwater, MN together, picked up a friend we had made there, and were like: “Hey, let’s just drive to South Dakota…” on a whim.

No plan, no itinerary, just another one of our impulsive decisions to go somewhere together. I don’t recall all of the memories from the trip – but I do believe this was the first trip where he looked at his first motorcycle, and wanted to see it in-person. I’ve purchased three cars from him, we’ve always had each other’s back.

When I was homeless a time in my life, him and his family opened their doors for me, offering me a place to stay. We thrived together when in each other’s company – his father had opened his doors to me, welcoming me in as part of the family.

In Joseph’s company, he taught me how to make Ugali and something called Chapati – authentic Kenyan cuisine. Do I remember how to make it? At this time, no, I do not recall, but it’s a sentimental memory that always stays with me. Back in ~2018, we got an apartment in Plymouth, MN that we lived together at – for a short-time – just as I was coming back from Basic training for the military. We had gone to basic training at seperate times.

Whenever I needed a place to sleep or get away to when I was going through stuff, his door was always open to me. I recall many a nights of just saying: “Hey, I know it’s late, but…I’m having a really hard time right now, can I come stay at your place?”

The answer was always yes. He never backed down, never swayed – he would always joke about beating me up if I was doing, or planning to do, something dumb. We almost fought on more than one ocasdion. He was a shoulder to cry on when I was down – a friend who was always there, despite my constantly moving around and travelling throughout life. There were times we wouldn’t speak – either due to distractions in life, or, blatant ignorance. But we always folded, and were right back at each other’s company and doorstep, no matter what we were going through.

Joseph, I’ll miss you, my friend, dearly, but just know – you’ll always be in my heart. We may not have served together, directly, in the Army, but I’d still, and will always be willing – to die for you.

I may not be able to ride with you anymore, but I’m still willing to die for you – by God, for God and with God, may your soul rest in peace, and may smooth riding bring eternal bliss and peace for you as your spirit walks among us.

With regards and love,

• E.K.

The Wandering Wolf