There are very few occasions when people from all parts of your life get together. Tonight, when I turned on my computer, I’m not sure why, but my wedding photographs popped up. Tonight, of all nights, it’s especially poignant.
A couple of days ago, a good friend of mine died. I only found out about it yesterday though. He was a very special person and although I hadn’t spoken to him in a few years, he held a special place in my heart.
He was the kind of guy who picked up and went on great adventures. He and I were supposed to drive from California to the Southern tip of Chile together. We had everything in place: I had quit my job in television production and was going to pass my learners’ permit so I’d be able to drive, he had sublet his place and had gotten his car serviced.
We hadn’t known each other for very long, but we’d become instant friends. Our mistake was that we briefly became lovers. That wasn’t our trajectory. And soon enough, somewhere between Colorado and California, we agreed that maybe we weren’t meant to be. Still, we continued, because we cared about one another – just not in that way.
I had also, by accident, met the man I would marry. By accident, because I was looking forward to my ride to Chile, when I met DW. I wasn’t in the market. On the contrary, I actively didn’t want to fall in love at first sight with a writer who lived in Los Angeles. I’d recently promised myself that 1. I would no longer date writers and 2. I wouldn't get into any long distance romances.
But then suddenly I found myself, planning the adventure of a lifetime with my friend, while, at the same time, dreaming about an almost stranger who I’d met twice in my life.
The inside of my head became one of those impossible to untangle knots that jewellery winds itself into for no reason. It can be sitting on a table one moment and then it’ll be all wound up in itself the next without having moved. Like love. Like friendship. It was complicated yet my friend made it very simple: we decided we would end our trip in Los Angeles, he dropped me off at DW’s place, gave me a warm hug, whispering “good luck” in my ear, and headed out to get on with his life.
He was a good friend and even though he and I hadn’t spoken in years, I knew the world was all the better for having him in it. He was young, a few years shy of forty. He was healthy and fit. I keep asking myself how it could happen to him. Death. Tonight I am angry at Death. Why does it seem to be everywhere right now? What in the world does it want from a great guy with a huge amount of kindness, a great attitude and a ton of ambition?
I remember his zest. I remember his intelligence. I remember when he called to tell me he had met someone special. They got married a little while ago, and tonight, I am thinking of her too though I never did get to meet her. I know I would like her, if my friend fell for her.
Apparently in the interpretation of dreams, death symbolizes change. For DW and I, it’s been tough to get our heads around all the changes we’ve been going through -- on every level, in every aspect of our lives. I can see how death and change relate to one another. But when faced with the reality of someone no longer being alive, somehow it’s different. For me, change implies that there is a way back, that you can change your mind or make another change if the one in place no longer suits. Death, however, is irreversible. I still feel that empty space in my stomach whenever I think of my grandfather. It’s the void he left, the one that will never be filled again. And that is unchangeable.
I was going to write a whole different post about being thankful and what to cook to mark your gratitude, but that one will wait. Today, I want to pay my respects to a wonderful, inspiring friend.
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