Monday, January 9


You never realize how much something is going to hurt until it actually happens to you.

I lost a friend this weekend.  We had only known each other for the past seven months, but he was a dear friend.  We started off emailing back and forth over the summer, and then finally met in October.  Our time together was brief, but special. I would have liked us to become more than what we were, but I was also happy just to have him in my life.  Happy to see him.  Happy to be near him.  Happy to talk to him.

And we talked.  A lot.  I think our record was 5.5 hours.  My own sister and I have only been able to talk for 3, maybe 4, hours before we completely run out of things to say to one another.  This friend and I could talk forever - on the phone, at my house, at his house.  In one cell phone billing cycle, we accrued 24 hours worth of minutes. On numerous occasions we were up till 3, 4, 5 o’clock in the morning, just talking.  I loved hearing about his stories, his dreams, his goals.  I loved talking about our experiences, our feelings, our testimonies.

But when you lose someone, you start replaying every conversation you ever had and asking yourself what if?  You start questioning why?  You alternate between shock, despair, anger, sorrow, and then back to shock to start all over again.

This friend was a kind, generous and honorable young man.  He loved his family more than anything.  He felt a constant need to help, serve and protect others.  He taught me so much about what is real and important in life.  He was also a bit of a Peter Pan.  We would often joke that he had a Peter Pan Complex (always a little boy), while I had a Wendy Complex (always a mother).  Peter and Wendy.  I always liked that about our relationship.

What is especially hard right now are all of the reminders.  He’s only been gone a short while, but everything I see, smell, think or say reminds me of him.  I’m hoping the constant reminders become less painful as time goes on.  I’m hoping the ache I feel in my heart right now becomes bearable.  I’m hoping his family and friends are comforted by the doctrines of the atonement and the resurrection. I’m hoping he has finally found peace from all of his sufferings.

With the little experience I have with love, I know that I loved this friend.  He turned me into a crazy person sometimes, but I loved him.

So thank you, Z. I might have been your Cool Chick, but you were my Marine, my Warrior and my Black Ops Operator.  I am eternally grateful for the time we spent together.
I am a better person for having known you.

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