Today marks the 19th anniversary of my friend, Steven, passing away.
We were both 16 years old at the time.
We were so full of life, energy, ambition, and invincibility.
And now, he has been gone longer than he was here.
It is funny how, as a kid or as a teen, you think you are invincible. You may honestly believe if you want to fly, you can. You don't see limitations of ability - only the desire to do something. You can't imagine anything beyond your bubble world. In this bubble world, no one leaves, no one dies, and the world is such a happy place.
Each year, I remember him on this day. How can I not? He was endearing, frustrating, cute, and funny. He was that friend you could tell anything to, and he wouldn't care. He was that guy you always had a little crush on but never spoke up and told him. He was that student in class that annoyed teachers, but they still loved him due to his smile and thoughtfulness. He was that person that could light up a room just by walking in. And he was gone all too soon before his dreams were realized.
It is by no coincidence that we meet those in life for purposes greater than we understand at the time. It is by no mistake I knew Steve. For all the lessons he taught me, unknowingly at the time, I have carried in my heart for the past 19 years. That smile when things were not going the way he wanted reminds me to smile despite my own feelings of defeat. That ambition to master his current obsession reminds me to never stop entertaining my own passions. That sense of humor that literally set the world on fire with laughter reminds me to always enjoy my days, because I may not see another. At times, I forget he is gone, remembering an event that happened eons ago that I want to share with him now. At times, he remains as a ghost figure in my present day, always 16 with his mohawked hair, skating down the road.
In visiting my parents to this day I feel compelled to walk by his old house, now occupied by a new family with new children roaming the halls. I remember all those moments I would walk to his house as a kid, before his death to hang out with him, and after his death to visit with his mom. I visit the cemetery, sit on the grass, and tell him all that has happened since the last visit I had. I share my life, as I know it now, with him, fully believing he is able to smile, fully able to listen still regardless that he isn't physically sitting next to me. In the time Steve has been gone, I have graduated high school, got married, started a family, got divorced, started careers, discovered new places, revisited old places, and watched my children grow, becoming the age Steve and I were when we met.
Death is never hard on those that leave. They hopefully are in the direct vision of the Lord, able to view the Heavens and Earth from a different vantage point. Death is hard on those left behind. We are the keepers of their spirit, their dreams, and their lives as we knew it. We grieve in different ways, celebrating at times then feeling nostalgic at other times. But life moves forward, each day passes until you look at a calendar, realizing 19 years filled with many different new moments have been experienced. My recent moments have been difficult in mind and spirit, and this day, rather than mourning Steve, I am going to live with his example. If only for today, I am going to smile in spite of anything that happens, laugh as if I have never laughed before, and enjoy my time. Tomorrow I can try the process again - in honor of a great guy I still call friend, still talk to despite the distance between us. Today, I am celebrating his life through celebrating mine.
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