Logan didn’t like to talk about the “c” word, even though it loomed over him every day for six and a half years. It’s something that happened, but it’s not who he was. Logan was smart, funny, determined, and one of my very best friends, and that’s how I’ll always remember him.

I met Logan around 2014 when he joined KA at UNC. In the fraternity world, Logan was my “little brother’s little brother,” which meant that Bobby and I were both supposed to be mentors for him. But Logan was always determined to find his own path and ended up being more of a role model for both of us. Against all logic, he decided to pursue physics, probably the hardest major at UNC, driven by his innate desire to understand how things work, particularly everything related to space. This scientific mindset later led him to earn a master’s degree in analytics.

Logan was often quiet, but when he talked, people listened. Even though he could be serious a lot of the time, he was also funny in his own sarcastic but loving way. One time, I accidentally put milk in the pantry instead of the fridge. Logan was over at my house the next day and opened up the cupboard. He saw the milk and, with a sly smile, said, “Oh cool, you have your own milk shelf,” then closed the cabinet and went about whatever he was doing.

Logan’s passions were simple yet profound: he loved craft beer, Marvel movies, videogames, spending time with friends, and Tar Heel athletics. He proudly wore UNC’s colors through his master’s program at NC State and later through the halls of Duke Hospital. He always knew all the latest stats and transfer portal rumors. For ten years, Logan was my right-hand man at nearly every UNC home football game, the kind of fan who never left early to beat traffic. When he could no longer attend because of health reasons, he made sure the tickets found their way into a friend’s hands to carry on the tradition.

Logan was loved and supported by so many friends, family members, fraternity brothers, classmates, and colleagues. To illustrate what type of friend Logan was, I remember a story he told about going to the beach with his aunt and uncle on a hot day. They knew he loved craft beer but didn’t know much about it themselves, so they got him a six-pack of Duck Rabbit Milk Stout, which would be about as refreshing as a large glass of thick chocolate milk. Logan politely thanked them and pretended to enjoy one to avoid hurting their feelings. I think he told them later on, and they all laughed about it. Another time Logan had brought a first date to a football game, and in an unlucky turn of events, Bojangles sold me chicken tenders that were raw in the middle. I was either too shy or disgusted to do anything about it at the time but Logan and his date graciously offered to “handle it” for me. They returned the tenders to the store and warned everyone in line about what had happened. Bojangles felt so bad about it that they gave Logan and his date triple their money back in cash. They ended the day with a grateful crowd of people saved from food poisoning and a first-date story that left us all laughing.

We were playing on an adult kickball team around the time Logan was diagnosed with cancer. I remember taking him to one of his first doctor’s appointments because of what he thought was just back pain at the time. There were a lot of ups and downs over the next six and a half years, including a brief celebration in 2019 when the cancer went into remission. But no matter how hard things got, Logan’s personality always shined brighter than the pain he was going through. He was always there for us, and we were there for him when he needed us. Our close-knit group of friends visited him in every hospital room, offered rides, brought food, and even lodged a formal complaint when the handicap bathroom wasn’t actually handicap friendly. The most meaningful event was when Councill rented out a movie theater, and twenty of our friends came from near and far to join Logan in rewatching his favorite movie, “Interstellar,” on the big screen.

Logan was a great person and an amazing friend, and it hurts to think about how much I’ll miss his quick wit, late-night space talks, sports commentary, and everything in between. But I know he’d want us to hold onto the good memories until we meet again. To his friends and family, Logan didn’t say goodbye—he said, “I love you, and I’ll see you next time.”