If you’ve been following my journey, you’ve learned a few things about me by now. I had a rollercoaster of a childhood, which landed me in the state of Pennsylvania just as I hit my teen years. The two years leading up to that I began my battles with depression and obesity. And I am a lover of love, in all forms. I know the significance of those factoids may be lost on you at the moment, but they are pertinent to the story I’d like to share. I have struggled to get this out more times than I can count through the years, and it is always for the same reason…it breaks my heart and shuts me down as soon as I start thinking about it. But memories of love and joy bring me to that point, and they need to see the light of day. I can’t let them forever be swept away by the sadness. So today, on what would have been his 34th Birthday, I’d like to honor the memory of a friend who chose to leave this plane of existence far too soon.
When we moved to Pennsylvania, we wound up in a development that was full of kids of all ages. Most of those in my age group were boys, which I was thrilled about because, let’s face it, teenaged girls are the fucking worst. Even back then, before the internet made bullying trendy, they were generally mean-spirited and competitive…two things that I have never been. So forming friendships with the opposite sex came much easier. And because I was fortunate enough to be reminded frequently by my same-sex peers that I was fat and ugly, there was never a question of the legitimacy of our friendships. We could just be who we were, without hormones getting involved.
While he tried his best to just be part of the crowd, he was different. He was the kind of guy who only existed in cheesy teen movies, the popular jock who was adored by all. He was a goofball, but respectful. He was proud, but humble. Mischievous with a golden core. When the rest of the group insisted on vacating the park because there were too many little kids around, he would jump in and play with them. And no one would tease him for it, because on some level it was just known that he was better than the sum of our parts.
When we were younger, it was all group, all the time. We were one collective unit. As we aged into high school, the group dynamic changed, and we all began to form separate, deeper relationships. Though I enjoyed our adventures through the middle school years, and loved him for his affable nature, it wasn’t until high school rolled around that I truly saw his heart. By this point he was no longer ours. His circle of admirers had amassed in the way it does when you’re good looking, athletically gifted, and have the ability to induce fits of laughter. And though changes in status had transformed others around us, he still remained perfectly him.
The older I got, the more I was tormented in school. There were some classes that I never returned to after the first day because of who was in them. Encounters with my bullies were embarrassing enough, so I stayed silent. I didn’t share my thoughts or feelings with anyone back then, not even my closest friends. But they took a toll. Whatever confidence I had built up prior to high school had been depleted. I started skipping social events, because they left me feeling too vulnerable, and our group had become so scattered, I didn’t think I had the safety of numbers any more.
As we entered football season, I was persuaded to go to a game, for no other reason than to cheer him on. This was his stage, and I had no personal expectations for it. I had already experienced people I thought were my friends disregard me in public for fear of ridicule. And while in my heart I never thought he was that type of person, we all had changed so much, I couldn’t be certain. But as he took his position on the field, he spotted us along the fence, and waved. And as soon as the game was over, he came over to hug us, and stood with his arm around me, chatting away, as he had done so many times before.
Throughout the remainder of my time in high school, he never passed me in the hall without acknowledging me in some way, whether with a hello, a hug, or that nod boys do when you’re too far to talk. Did he make fun of me to his friends once I was out of sight? It isn’t out of the question. I know a couple people who had. But no one in his new circle ever treated me disrespectfully. He was a grade ahead of me, so we never had classes together, until the semester I dropped out. Despite having the worst attendance record in the school’s history, I still managed good grades when I did show up. So I found myself in an honors history class, where I didn’t know a single person, until he walked into the room. The class included his girlfriend at the time, and a bunch of his football buddies, but when it came time for group work, he always included me. The day that I entered the classroom to return my text book and have the teacher sign my release form, he gave me a long sorrowful look. In the past we had joked about my absenteeism, but he mostly tried to encourage me to get my ass to school.
We shared stories, laughter, adventures, hopes, dreams, enemies, we may have even broken a couple laws…but we never shared pain or suffering. When I knew him, he was joy. I can still hear his laugh. I can hear him exclaim “Holy Shnikes!”, in a high-pitched voice, because he used that phrase way longer than anyone should have. I can still feel his arm around me, because even when it was there so long it became a literal pain in the neck, I never wanted him to let go. I can still see the sparkle in his eyes. And the smirk he would have after making a ridiculous shot in HORSE, because even though he tried to keep it fun, he always wanted to win.
By the time he returned from Iraq, I had moved to California. I asked people to pass along messages to him, but we never had a correspondence. From the stories I was told, the guy I knew never came home. And one night I got the call that he was gone. It’s been over 10 years, and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. I remember trying to choke the words out to my brother and sister, who each had their own personal relationship with him, and just watching the sadness and disbelief fill their eyes. It was a loss that shaped the way I live the rest of my life. I know he is at peace. And for that I am grateful. But selfishly I wish he were still here. His existence made the world a better place.
He was the type of person who floods your heart.
And once it starts, it is everlasting.
