The summer after graduation from high school, I went to Camp Carolina (a pre-college summer camp) where they help orient you to the campus and allow you to make friends.  The first day I met this curly haired, blue-eyed guy who I just gravitated to. There was this mutual connection that formed almost instantaneously. We spent the weekend attached to the hip, talking about our families and our similar high school experiences. There was an attraction there but I’ve always been painfully shy and anxious.   It was only magnified when we all went to the school gym and we were hanging out in the pool and sauna – when some other kids from the camp inquired about our relationship.  Apparently, we were giving off that vibe like we knew each other prior to the weekend. The question was innocent but it made me repel back. I put a wall up, I distanced myself for fear of  my own attraction to him being obvious and him not feeling the same way.  I was so confused by the end of the weekend but I didn’t actually think I’d ever see him again.

When I settled into college life that fall, we ran into each other again.  Every time we saw each other in passing between classes, there were always the tightest hugs and conversations.  If I had a dollar for every time I was almost late to class or ended up just standing in the middle of campus talking with him I would have been a rich person.   We  ended up exchanging aim screennames and chatting on there ever so often.  We kept up with each other’s lives and while I chose a residence hall and stayed there until the end, he lived off campus in an apartment.  We both had other relationships during our years at school. In many ways, he was a constant though that I could depend on as a friend. That was all he was ever labeled as when he was alive.

We only ever had one class together but I remember the day I realized it.  It was Junior year.  We were in completely different fields so our major courses pretty much never aligned but we happened to choose a supplementary course that had quirked both our interests – “Anthropology of Magic and Religion”.   I was so happy to have him in the class. While I was dealing with major depression for most of that year, he was a bright point and I very rarely missed that class because of it.  His smile and sense of humor kept me going.  I literally could never get enough of the wild stories he would make it.  One in particular that I remember (and know he never actually would have done) is how he concocted this plan to go to Rome and steal the pope’s hat because he believed that if you touch the pope, you’re guaranteed to go to Heaven.  My retelling is definitely less amusing than his.

He was unique. He loved books. He was already reading. He could make things. He bought a crossbow just because.  I loved that about him.  He was the outgoing, spontaneous person that I’ve never been. Some days, he would walk the completely opposite way of his apartments to walk through campus with me until we got close to my dorm. One time he even came up and hung out for a little bit. I don’t even remember the how, when or why. I just remember him being there.  Those moments were really special to me and I think it was that semester that I really began to understand the fact he was something special.  I was intimidated by him though and terrified of destroying a good thing.

The cat and mouse game of should I or shouldn’t I continued for the duration of my college career. Even if I kept living my life, he was always the person that I came back to. My heart was pretty determined when it came to him. When we graduated, we were in the facebook era and we message each other from time to time. Living in two entirely different areas made it difficult to really go anywhere.  He kept inviting me to come up and see him and I was the queen of excuses.  He invited me to a party in July 2008 because he was going to move up in New Jersey for a bit and I said I wanted to go (and I did) but I blamed work for not going. He said I could just come down on another day before he moved later that week and I didn’t. I discussed coming up and visiting him at one point. I didn’t. He moved in late December/Early January and he invited me to another party to welcome him back. I agreed to go. I was going to go. In my heart, it felt like the time to finally make this thing happen. Then it snowed.  My anxiety got the better of me and I didn’t go.

He spent the night texting me.  The final text I ever received from him was: “No fucking excuses”. 

A few weeks later, I was at my overnight job (where we have a lot of downtime).  My mind went to him and I was going to message him. I logged onto facebook and went to shoot him a message.  I stared in disbelief for a few moments before I had to excuse myself to step out of the room. I  walked into the hall (a very recorded – camera filled hall) and sobbed hysterically and had a come to Jesus talk with myself as I tried to calm down.

On January 30, 2009, he and his roommate were headed to the store when they got into a wreck.  Apparently, his roommate had run the red light and someone coming from the other direction slammed into the driver’s side. The roommate died instantly and he was taken to the hospital where he didn’t make it.

It was already days later when I found out and it destroyed me.  I struggled to come to terms with what had happened but I kept going down the spiral of this not being okay because we were supposed to have more time.  I always assumed there would be more time and that when the time was right one of us would finally step up and make the move and one day we would have a life together. It was just something I felt in my heart and in a flickering moment that was pulled right out from underneath me. 

I didn’t have a lot of time to process everything since my family was in the middle of trying to sell our house so we could move while all of this was going on. I made a person pact with myself and with him that I would do more things that scare me. I was going to honor him by taking chances and pursing the things I wanted.  I took big trips by myself, I got myself back into school for my masters and I started to take more chances.  I’ve even emailed his mother a few times even though I never knew her when he was alive.

I completed my Masters two weeks ago and that was the moment that I started to get emotional all over again.  In my head, I know you can’t bring people back but it’s hard for me. I’ve used a medium a couple of times.  I post on his facebook wall ever so often just because it makes me feel like I've included him. I know we’ll see each other again – especially since his sense of humor lives on. I literally had a medium burst into laughter while trying to talk to him.  I apparently have more to do though here and sometimes that is hard. I don't think I'll ever stop grieving him.