Ryan was a part of a friend-group so tight and so close and I always felt that Ryan worked the hardest at making me feel included in it. Even when I was living in the US, whenever I came to Tholen for a visit, he was sure to be there, celebrating our reunion. When I was living in Leuven, he rescheduled his work-day so that he could come visit and party in Leuven with me for my birthday. When any member of my family or friends from home came to visit, Ryan always made the strongest impression, buying them beers, telling them stories, and introducing them to Tholen the right way-- with a game of mex at Hof. I think we all remember Ryan as someone who enjoyed himself and really loved life. Whether he was teaching me how to dance like him (which I never could), drinking Erdingers on the terrace, or playing mario party at his house. And even when he would tell me about something stressful going on in his life, he would end by laughing it off. I could talk to Ryan about anything it would actually make me feel better about it. When he died, I imagined him telling me about it. Although it wasn't real, I feel like that's the last image I have of him: explaining what happened with a beer in his hand and a half-sad smile on his face.