Before today, I'd never lost a friend. I remember going through high school, hearing about kids that died in car accidents, kids that got shot, kids that killed themselves, and thinking 'thank god I made it through without losing anyone.' I made it almost 24 1/2 years without losing someone close, other than a family member. Losing a friend is completely different.
I've lost all four of my grandparents. And looking back, I still mourn for them. I often wonder what I didn't learn about them or from them while they were still living. Now that I've lost a friend, I wonder what his life would have been like.
I met Chris last year. He spent three months with his aunt, who's the oncologist at the vet I work for. His dad packed him up and shipped him off to her from Wyoming because he'd gotten into some trouble back home. He'd been expelled, wasn't graduating with his senior class, and had spent some time in juvie. Come to think of it, I don't think he ever told me what exactly he did. He was sooo quiet his first few weeks at work. I don't think I've met anyone who talked less than he did. But dear god, once he got to know all of us it was a challenge getting him to shut up.
From day one I knew I liked him. It was hard not to like Chris (aside from those moments when he was doing his "I'm not touching you" routine where he'd stand behind you with one finger extended as close as humanly possible without actually touching you). He was handsome, and quick to smile. He seemed to be older than 18...at least around me.
I remember at the end of his second week with us, one of his friends killed himself. This was before I really got to know him and I just remember thinking, well that's it. He's going back to Wyoming and I'm going to wish I'd said something more profound to him everyday except 'good morning' and 'do you want anything for lunch?' He didn't fly home for the funeral, and I think he regretted not being able to say goodbye to his friend, but I got a second chance to say something else to him.
We pretty much became inseparable at work after that. Of course, we sat at the same desk so it was hard to get rid of him. He was easy to tease... I always called him Wyoming, which he hated. I remember thinking I could really fall for him if he weren't 18 and didn't live in the middle of B.F.E. (bum f*** Egypt). I don't know why I let that stop me, but I did. I know a lot of other people at work thought we were unnaturally close. I had to tell quite a few people that he and I weren't dating after he left. I think everyone in life has a "what if" and Chris will be mine. (The funny thing about "what if"s is the paths your imagination takes you down. I'm trying not to let mine get carried away, especially now.)
As of right now, I'm still not sure what happened to him. His aunt hasn't told anyone the details. All I know is that the world lost a great person last night. It's strange, but last night I was looking at pictures on one of my French photo boards and I lingered on a picture of me, him and Sara from last Summer. I even touched the picture where it hung before moving on. Maybe that was my body's way of knowing more than my mind did and letting me say goodbye before I realized anything happened.
I went out tonight and bought a twenty ounce bottle of Dr. Pepper and a bag of skittles, his favorite. Despite my eyes being swollen and red rimmed, I was determined not to cry. When the cashier was scanning my purchase, the bag of skittles came open. I turned to my mom and said "see, that's him sharing it with me. Just like always." It wasn't my goal to cry in the middle of Target, but I did it anyways.
There are certain things that will make me sad for a while. TI's song "Live your life" will haunt me (he used to get in my car and blast it REPEATEDLY until I wanted to shoot myself). Whenever I pass a huge truck, I'll think of him. Whenever I watch Transformers I'll think of him.
What still makes me the most upset is that I just talked with him. I text messaged him last week because his aunt's dog died. We talked back and forth for about an hour and I never got any indication that something was wrong. At one point he asked me "do you miss me?" and instead of answering directly, I said 'when are you coming back to visit??'
So now, at least twenty four hours too late... Yes, Chris. I miss you. Rest in peace, Wyoming. I love you BFF.
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