Sometimes I would prefer to have a limb cut off than have someone cut from my life.
Losing my best friend back in May was the hardest thing I have experienced in my 22 years.
The shock and disbelief that crushed me the moment I got word gave me that “slap in the face” and “snap to reality” feeling.
I never want to feel that again…
I never want to read another obituary telling me about a young man with possibilities of a vibrant future who had passed away over the weekend.
I never wanted to feel like I do right now…
There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought of my friend since his death.
He was a great influence to me for two years.
We lived together, partied together, laughed, hung out, drank and enjoyed his last years as close friends.
This was not the first time I have experienced this brand of tragedy.
When I was in the 3rd grade, my great uncle passed away in the hospital.
This man played a big role in my early life. I would spend days with him when I was too young to go to school, some would call that baby-sitting but it was too fun to call it that.
We would watch all the terrible 90s daytime TV including “The Price is Right,” word to my amigo Bob Barker.
It’s the loss of great people in my life that makes me wonder how I am still going on.
I honestly wonder how I stayed strong through it all.
I am actually disturbed at how I didn’t go insane from all my bottled up emotions at my friend’s funeral visitation. I don’t know, maybe I did it for his family, but I know I was screaming internally, wanting the world to know how pissed I was.
But here is the turning point when I say that I am strong because of these people.
My great uncle showed me that no matter how bad life gets, there is always time for fun and laughter.
He didn’t necessarily say this to me, but that’s what I learned from him.
He was definately the most positive and caring person despite all of his medical problems that ultimately took him from this world.
I was able to stay strong because I managed to learn life lessons and to always remember the good times: to never forget who the passing really were and how they made me who I am.
My fondest memory of my friend was one of my last. We both went to Kelly’s Irish Pub in Westport.
Out of every partying/drinking good time I had with my friend, this was the most memorable.
Just sitting at the bar talking and enjoying the array of drinks that wound up on our tab.
I still owe him $20; I consider this unfinished business, kind of haunting, I know.
I am still coping, which provides me with momentary bouts of depression that last about five minutes or so, but this isn’t going to keep me from going on with my life and persuing my future.
These two people that are still part of my life in spirit would not appreciate it if I didn’t.
They say death brings new life. I’m kind of waiting on that “new life” thing.
But keeping optimistic is important for me, and I promised myself that for the sake of those who care about me, I would stay positive and maintain who I am as a person, that funny, nice/mean, selfless, caring person that I try to be at least.