For anyone that knows me well, you know that I do not do well with death. It isn’t easy for anyone, but I especially struggle with the finality of it and putting my thoughts into words. Last week, a kid I grew up with passed away tragically. All sorts of emotions encompassed me: shock, numbness, sadness of course, and an overwhelming sense to revisit the past, a time that was much simpler. The part about revisiting my past has really impacted me this week. I often catch myself thinking of random memories that I have not thought of in years. I went to elementary and middle school with him, so I think of how young we were, no idea what tragedies were out there in the world yet. We were still sheltered from the real world, so we grew up from kindergarten to eighth grade with happy memories and hope for what was to come in the future.
Today, I sat in the familiar pews of church at his funeral, unable to fully wrap my mind around the fact that he was gone. Truly gone. We were no longer elementary or middle school kids; we were now out in the world, having to deal with difficult situations, such as this death. It was especially difficult because he was so young with such promise for the future. As I looked around, I saw just how much love and support filled the church. In recent years, I was not extremely close to my classmate that passed away; in fact, I lost touch with him when we went off to different high schools. Luckily, we attended the same college so I was able to reconnect and see a familiar face around our mid-sized campus. However, even though we lost touch, it is the fact that I grew up with him and had so many memories with him from my early childhood that really hit home.
Death is a funny thing. It brings up emotions and memories that you did not know were there. It brings people back together. And most importantly, it shows just how much friends and family are there to offer support. Over the past few days, I was able to reconnect with people from my elementary and middle school that I have not seen in years. I was able to go down memory lane and remember the amazing memories I shared with the group of 56 kids I graduated from middle school with… one of them being my classmate that passed away. We are often so caught up in our day-to-day lives that we sometimes forget our original roots. This week has brought me back to my roots. Although our friend may be gone, the memories are ours to cherish forever. Nobody can take those away.
To my friend that passed away: thank you for the memories we shared, they will never be forgotten. Thank you for your all-encompassing laugh and mischievous, yet compassionate nature. Thank you for reminding me that life is so precious. It is sad, but it took death to make me fully realize the gift of life. Thank you, most of all, for your presence in my life. I know you are in a better place watching over all those who love and care about you.
To anyone reading this: do not take life for granted. As cliché as it sounds, you never know what people are dealing with or when the last time you see them is truly the last time. The passing of my classmate has had such a profound effect on me, more than I thought was possible. Do what makes you happy in life, let go of any grudges you are holding on to, and enjoy every second because our time is limited. If I have learned anything in these past few days, it is that death, as horrible as it is, brings about such an outpouring of love.
In loving memory of GJK. Prayers to all his family and friends.
