I Miss You

As I write this, many of my friends are gathered in a church downtown. A Gothic church, with cloudy skies and a heavy drizzle that seems intent on making everyone reconsider the varying shades of gray that Chicago can fade into. They're there to say good-bye to one of my friends. A friend of ours, who unexpectedly passed, has had a surprisingly large impact on even the toughest of us.

Because of confidentiality reasons, we have been urged not to discuss it, but the loss still lingers-- quietly, in the back of everyone's mind. Although I was not the closest person to him, I do remember when I first met him. He wore pretty much the same hoodie every day, and had a smile that seemed to cut across the pettiness and cliquey-ness that can so easily penetrate any group of friends. I struggled his name the first time around-- and I remember he explained his nickname to make me feel less silly, foolish, and less overall like a bumbling idiot. He was very, very smart. And I respected him a lot. I miss our impromptu chats.

I couldn't really bring myself to go to the memorial, honestly. The idea of seeing all of my friends who also knew him all gathered in one place for the same reason seemed like I was finally admitting that it was true. That maybe in some way I was betraying him by admitting the truth. So I'm sitting at home now, having a more private memorial. I like to think he would've appreciated this-- being a techie himself, I can't think of a way more poetic to say goodbye. Instead of burning wishes or scattering ashes or shooting a boat with a fiery arrow like the Vikings, I'm immortalizing his being in tiny little bytes-- things that are broken down into 0s and 1s-- send quietly sending them into the abyss. These little morsels are nothing in the flood that is created every millisecond, but he was great to me even though he was just one person-- so this is fitting.

It's easy to pretend that maybe he's just doing other things-- and that's why I won't be seeing him around as much anymore. To make excuses that he's still around but just not here, not where I am, right now. But that he'll be back. Maybe tomorrow. I'm not sure how long I will wonder when I'll see him again before, suddenly, that small part in the back of my brain will remind me that he's not here. After this, it makes me realize more than ever how much more I need to focus on the today. The here. The now. The people around me and the people I want to be around me.

I think in the past year, I've really tried to force relationships that are too one-sided and have given up on relationships that I should've given another try. Like the first day I met him, I'm reminded of how important it is to enjoy the random people that are presented to you in life. He always gave me perspective-- seemingly unflappable-- he was the steadiest guy I knew. When I first found out he was gone, I felt angry. This was not the type of thing that happens to young people. Dying was something that happened to old people. It violated the rules I had set up in my mind. But I need to cherish those that I care about. We need to treasure the time we have together.

I miss you. I'll probably think of you every time it rains.