Frech Sutherland, a little man in stature yet huge in personality, passed this winter, too quietly for my liking. He lived a loud life, yet remained intensely private. His snorts and chortles were famously wicked, laced with wit and a deep love for those he chose to keep close. Frech was the Detroit Truman Capote, and he swam with all the swans of Oakland County for decades. He was a confidant, a designer, a friend, and a loyal presence to the women and husbands who were his clients.

I met Frech at one such swan’s home nearly 30 years ago. I was a very young and fit guy at the time, and I caught him peeking through the curtains while I worked in her garden. I was a bit unsettled at first, but quickly changed my mind when his 5'2" frame came scampering out of the house in white sneakers and little boy blue jeans. I was amazed that so much personality could be contained in such a small frame. I was immediately disarmed by his humor and warmth.

Over the years, we shared stories and laughter about the glitterati we worked with. The families and women we served became friends, and we were fiercely protective of them. Joe and I grew very close to Frech, and he became part of our family. Never one to turn down a meal or a cocktail, he became the lively backdrop to many of our favorite evenings. We always made sure to have plenty of vodka and far more food than needed for a dinner for three. He could drink, and he could eat.

Frech’s orbit included people from every walk of life. Like Cher, he was known simply as Frech. From diner waitresses and market vendors to staff at well-worn watering holes, he was known everywhere. For this alone, I shed tears. The world lost a man many may not even realize is gone. So many people who lit up when he entered a room will never have the chance to say goodbye. He was a little bird, fluttering here, there, and everywhere, making people laugh or wince, knowing something sharp might slip from his lips.

Frech’s life burned bright and fast, marked by extremes, shaped by past demons and deep friendships. Many of us are better for having shared in his journey. As time moves on, we are losing the characters who shaped our shared history. Our swans have slowly flown off to quieter ponds, leaving us older and less likely to form those same deep bonds again. Time and shared experience are what make those friendships take hold so deeply.

I have not fully accepted that I may now be the one behind the curtain. The bridge from our shared past now rests with us, the next generation. I am willing to help lift others up, but I cannot fill Frech’s small shoes. We may share the same love for our clients and friends, but he was a force, and his laughter will never be matched or forgotten.

I cannot begin to recount all that Frech did for so many, or the joy he brought to even more. His loss has hit us in a strange way. There is a numbness, a reluctance to accept that he is gone. Sometimes losing a friend of many decades feels even harder than losing family. The daily calls and messages have stopped, and only now are the tears beginning to come as we realize we must say goodbye.

So long, Frech. You made us laugh, you showed us the value of deep friendship, and you reminded us that life, even with its messiness, is full of joy. Our time with you was quite a ride. We will always cherish the memories and celebrate the role you played in our lives and in the lives of so many others. You hopped the one twig you could not pick up. We still feel you in our everyday lives. Our shared sayings and small jokes linger, as if you could still hear us, and they will stay with us for years to come.

We simply miss you, Freckles.