I spoke to my friend Sandra today. She’s getting married in October, and she gave me my (very lovely) invitation to said event. I would scan it, but… well… I’m lazy, and I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate the location being displayed all over the internet. I suppose I’m a decent friend that way.
Anyway. I got to thinking about love. I know, I know, I’m sure most of the people in my life are tired of my “deep thoughts” on blah blah blah, but this is really the only person I know how to be, okay? I’ve spent my life reconsidering life and reality and all the things that we hold to be true. You know why? Because I have trouble differentiating reality at times.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you’re not “in the know”, and I’m not about to explain it.
Getting back on subject, though: love.
This post is going to head out in to left field and kind of meander out there for a while, so bear with me. I received an e-mail from a friend yesterday. The purpose of his e-mail was to tell me that a good friend of mine from high school had died not too long ago.
Now, I love my friends. All of them. I may not take the time to say, “I love you” to them, but in their own way, they all know.
The last time that I saw Tim (the person who died) was several years ago. Prior to that, I hadn’t spoken to him since junior year in high school. He called me in 2004 or so, to tell me that his mom, a very good friend of mine that had looked out for me through a lot of things, had committed suicide.
Poor Tim. He’d discovered her lifeless body on the floor of her apartment and called the paramedics. It was a futile effort, though. She’d been dead for hours, probably the entire night. An overdose.
In his state of confusion and shock, the only person Tim could think to call was me. I don’t understand it, to be honest. At that point, we hadn’t spoken in 4 or 5 years, but he called me just the same. I ended up taking him to the coast with a couple of friends and got really drunk together. We spent hours around a bonfire that night talking about life and death and all that was and that was not.
The next day I took him home and never saw him again. I haven’t heard anything from him since that fateful day, and now he’s dead. Gone. That’s it.
You may ask how he died. I received an e-mail again today. He had died in a car crash. His car had apparently run off the road and crashed in to a tree. No alcohol or drugs were involved, he wasn’t speeding, and no other cars were involved. There weren’t any skid marks where he might have tried to stop, either. Are you getting the picture here? Suicide by car.
Like I said, I love my friends. All of them. Even when they’re selfish enough to do something like kill themselves. I just know that, even though I haven’t seen him in several years, I will miss him. More importantly, the world is now poorer and more dull for not having him in it.
I can’t help but wonder if, at some point that fateful night, when he finally decided to just end it all… did he try calling me? Did he think about me? In that last precarious second… I just wish that I’d been there. I can’t help but feel guilty, even though I know I shouldn’t.
And that brings me to my point: Love is something that transcends death, distance, time, pain, loss, and sadness. Even despite my loss and my sadness, despite not having seen him for many years, I mourn him. I miss him. I love him.
So long, Tim. I guess the old saying is true… only the good die young; that explains why I’m still hanging around.