Janine & Saadat Awan on Miles
Miles came into our lives in late 2014. We desperately needed extra help at our new coffee shop, and our friend Trevor, who was all too familiar with the struggles of small-business life, said he had the perfect person in mind for us. That’s when he introduced us to Miles. (Thank you, Trevor)
At first, Miles was just an employee and co-worker, but he quickly grew to become a dear friend and brother. We were absolutely crushed when we found out he was gone.
During those early days at the shop, our baristas put up with a lot. We were impatient owners, obsessed, overworked, feeling our way in the dark, but Miles was incredibly gracious, pushing us to be better, more open communicators. This did not come naturally to us at first. Hell, it’s still tough to have those uncomfortable adult conversations. But Miles was insistent on the importance of this above all and always encouraged free and honest discussions.
Eventually, as we became more comfortable with each other, Miles’ grumpy old man side emerged. If the start of our day felt too early, as it often does in coffee, he’d pick a little fight with us about something he felt wasn't "the best use of his skillset” like being on register instead of pulling shots or having to work a closing shift, which he hated. He'd get annoyed that his rule: “only music with no drums or vocals allowed before 9am” wasn’t being strictly followed by the rest of us. Sweet Miles needed to be gently eased into the day--don't disturb him with your drums. Or heaven forbid we not play a full album from start to finish. People worked really hard figuring out the flow of the song order; such work must be acknowledged and revered. Plus, don't you want to create a vibe? You can't do that by playing a single or a random playlist, he'd insist. Eventually he invited us to one of his soundbaths, and it all made sense after that.
Though he was oftentimes entirely too serious, he was quick to tease us when we’d bicker in front of customers. “Uh oh, mom and dad are fighting again” he’d joke. But he apologized freely if he sensed any hurt feelings or that he’d made a mistake. Miles was sensitive, but he was never afraid to speak his mind or break the tension with some snark or pop-culture reference. We always missed that when he'd leave for a few weeks to play shows or take time off to make art. But he'd always come back or at least send a meme. Once he left for Italy, he still came back to see us any time he was in LA. We were so eager and delighted when he'd visit. He seemed lighter, happier and more free than we'd ever seen him.
We are beyond grateful to have made many ridiculous, random, frustrating and fond memories with Miles over the years, both as co-workers and as friends. There are too many to list here. But simply being at the shop, pulling a shot or drinking a topo chico while chatting with friends on the bench outside will always be great reminders of Miles and all that he's meant to us.
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On behalf of everyone at Woodcat who knew and loved Miles, Saadat and I are so sorry for this tremendous loss. We are sending all of you: Leanne, Trevor, Miles’ Family and Friends, anyone who loved him, all of our love and light.
Miles, we will think of you always and treasure the time and space we were lucky enough to have shared with you. Thank you for being such a huge part of our lives. Thank you for seeing us, for listening, for respecting us, for calling us out, for making us laugh and for caring so deeply about us. We will love you and miss you forever. Rest easy, dear friend.
Janine & Saadat Awan
(woodcat coffee)
