Sunday, August 9, 2009
It isn't fair.
I have known Josh since the day I was born. How many people have friends like that, who they've known literally their entire life? Not everyone. He introduced me to the movie Big Fish, one of my favorites; to cinnamin on popcorn--incidentally, that and Big Fish happened on the same day--and for sixteen years I've known him. We aren't related in any way, but he always called me his cousin. I'd seen him almost every day until two years ago, when he and his family--his mother Robin, father Rob, and sister Becky--moved to New Hampshire. And in those two years I hardly saw him, and then, hardly thought about him. Until yesterday.
Yesterday morning my mother woke my sister and I up at about 7:30. We were moving my sister out to her new house in New Jersey with her sorority sisters that day. My mothr had gotten a call from Robin. Friday night, when Josh was driving home from his job as a cook at a country club, something happened, and he swerved off the road and hit a tree.
Josh died.
He was eighteen.
We don't quite know what happened. The cops apparently found him. They think he'd been speeding--but we don't find that likely. He was, supposedly, a very slow driver, something he'd been teased about. Not that I know this. I don't remember the last time I saw him. The last time I hugged him, or the last time we even spoke. I can hardly fathom that he is gone. He was such a permenant fixture in my life, though I hardly saw him anymore, I always thought he would be there. I've cried quite a bit in the past two days. It isn't fair. It isn't fair that I should be alive and he isn't. It isn't fair that his friends will be starting college in a few weeks and he isn't. It isn't fair that his parents must lose a son and his sister lose a brother. It isn't fair.
So, I won't be around for a while. Tomorrow we are leaving for New Hampshire. On Tuesday there will be a service, to which we've been told to dress in jeans, because that's the way Josh would have wanted us--and he would. I am not ready to see my friend in a casket, but I suppose I'll have to be. I imagine I'll be back sometime Wednesday.
I guess this is my way of telling you, my friends. Forgive me, but it isn't something I would want to bring up over the phone, or in an AIM conversation, or even in person. But don't worry about me--since I've learned the news I've been able to laugh at old movies on TV, and I've been able to semi-cheerfully greet patrons at my job at Friendly's. I will be okay. I will be up and about again for Sarah's party this weekend. I hope to see you guys there.
I just have to remind myself of a part of a song I always really liked, but now have a reason to need it:
"But I know, though the endings are never ever happy, its the happy moments along the way that in the end, make it okay."
I just have to remember the time that Josh and I organized a 'concert' in my driveway that consisted of my bike upside down, us spinning the wheels and dragging a stick through the spokes; I have to remember our many writing attempts, which include a movie called 'Store Wars' in which he and I were agents for Dr. Wal-Mart (played by my sister) who had to defeat the evil Dr. A&P because she (his sister) was hypnotizing customers to only shop at A&P; I have to remember our many sleepovers and camping trips and movies we watched...And in the end, I'll be okay.
I love you all, and I thank God that I have all of you. I miss you very much, and I cannot wait to see you again. Yes, I want school back. I'll admit it. I'm ready. Goodnight, for now.
9:26 PM