On the death of friends

Throughout my high school career, close to a dozen friends died within a two year period. That is a lot of deaths to occur within that short of a time span, no matter someone's age. The "last" of these deaths came the first week of my senior year of high school. This guy, arguably my best friend at that point in time, tragically ended his life.

I did not handle the situation very well. I was deeply saddened and even distraught over his death. He was 21 years old, and his birthday was only 3 days before his death. He was getting ready to return to Appalachian State for another year of school. Obviously, that did not happen.

This was a rough way to start that senior year for me. I quickly decided to graduate in December and move on to college, thinking that I could run away from my problems by closing my "high school" chapter and continuing on to the "college" chapter. I thought that everything would disappear. But no. It didn't. I still had to face the reality of death and losing people that I care about.

As of this past Thursday, it has been 6 years since this dear friend died. I still think of him often. While I know I am confident that I will see him again, it still can be difficult. I miss his laughter and big hugs. I have forgotten what his voice sounds like and I have started to forget what he looks like. That is the thing I hate about death: I begin to forget the sound of their voice and what they look like. As hard as I try not to, that is what I forget. And that is what I miss.