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ikyrianToday I buried an old friend that I had long since lost touch with. I saw him occasionally at parties and such the like, but me being a loner by trade meant that I didn't rub elbows with him often. That being said, I felt it important to attend, because we used to be friends way back in high school.
My memory is slowly, but surely, deteriorating. Most of my childhood is a blur with only a few really traumatic times remaining. Elementary school? We moved so much I can't even keep them straight. Middle school? Almost completely gone. And now high school is slowly slipping away into the haze.
I don't have very many memories where Griff plays a significant role. I remember we used to share a table at lunch. I can remember his laugh. I remember his smile. I remember him in the play he, Christian and Adam put on - The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged) as their senior production. I can remember graduation. I vaguely remember him in middle school because his mom would come in every year and educate everyone on Hanukkah and Jewish traditions. I can remember him playing basketball. More recently I remember him at Christian's wedding. I remember seeing him at a couple of random parties. I remember him talking with Mike Pennington, whose own funeral I was unable to attend, the year before I went to England. I remember saying, "Hi." I remember seeing him at Christian and Jackie's anniversary/baby shower. So many random moments that would have been seemingly of very little significance in the long run, but will now be the sum total of all of my memories of this person who was taken from us all to soon.
And now, of course, his funeral. It didn't really hit me that I would never see him again until I sat down in the pew at the sanctuary waiting for his service to start. Instead of sitting with my brothers, I saw with another old high school friend, Annie. And while I probably won't remember what the rabbi said or contents of his mom's or Robert's speeches were, I will remember being amazed at how many people were there and thinking, God, if only he knew how many people would come to his funeral, about how many lives he had touched in some way, however small, maybe, and were honored to be there and were honored to know him however briefly, just maybe he would have reached out to one of them, instead of his gun. I don't think I'll ever forget his mother's anguish and fury at her son's death.
I hate the fact that my last real memory of him, the one that I'll remember ten, twenty, thirty years from now, is of me pouring a shovel of dirt onto the lid of his coffin.
Goodbye, Griffin. May we meet again in the next life.
My memory is slowly, but surely, deteriorating. Most of my childhood is a blur with only a few really traumatic times remaining. Elementary school? We moved so much I can't even keep them straight. Middle school? Almost completely gone. And now high school is slowly slipping away into the haze.
I don't have very many memories where Griff plays a significant role. I remember we used to share a table at lunch. I can remember his laugh. I remember his smile. I remember him in the play he, Christian and Adam put on - The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged) as their senior production. I can remember graduation. I vaguely remember him in middle school because his mom would come in every year and educate everyone on Hanukkah and Jewish traditions. I can remember him playing basketball. More recently I remember him at Christian's wedding. I remember seeing him at a couple of random parties. I remember him talking with Mike Pennington, whose own funeral I was unable to attend, the year before I went to England. I remember saying, "Hi." I remember seeing him at Christian and Jackie's anniversary/baby shower. So many random moments that would have been seemingly of very little significance in the long run, but will now be the sum total of all of my memories of this person who was taken from us all to soon.
And now, of course, his funeral. It didn't really hit me that I would never see him again until I sat down in the pew at the sanctuary waiting for his service to start. Instead of sitting with my brothers, I saw with another old high school friend, Annie. And while I probably won't remember what the rabbi said or contents of his mom's or Robert's speeches were, I will remember being amazed at how many people were there and thinking, God, if only he knew how many people would come to his funeral, about how many lives he had touched in some way, however small, maybe, and were honored to be there and were honored to know him however briefly, just maybe he would have reached out to one of them, instead of his gun. I don't think I'll ever forget his mother's anguish and fury at her son's death.
I hate the fact that my last real memory of him, the one that I'll remember ten, twenty, thirty years from now, is of me pouring a shovel of dirt onto the lid of his coffin.
Goodbye, Griffin. May we meet again in the next life.
