Embracing life

Sunday, 26 July 2009

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes, 57 seconds

This sucks.

Cliches are not my favorite pasttime, but I have to say this one: It’s truly strange how fragile life is. Worse, it truly sucks to be reminded of this fragility. This is a lesson I am not ready to be reminded of, and it’s not a lesson I like to be reminded of. Ever. No one does, right?

Perhaps you heard about a helicopter crash in Maryland last Thursday night that killed 4 people. In that moment, thousands of people lost someone dear to them.

My good friend and former roommate Jeff was flying that helicopter. I will miss him a lot, already do.

Fortunately, I had plans to go to Stillwater, MN for the “Lumberjack Days” this weekend, so I’ve been around friends & family. Good company really does help to ease the pain. I learned this about a year ago, on July 7th. That day, a great man named Dan passed away after a mountain biking accident, only weeks after we both graduated from St. Olaf. Dan and I became friends and college, and especially close during our senior year as his off-campus house was a distance out of town. Often, Dan or his housemates would stop at our house on the way home since we lived on the edge of town. Some of the best memories I have are being surprised by Dan and unexpectedly hopping in his car to go enjoy a burger at the Quarterback Club in town.

It really is all about the little things.

It certainly hasn’t been easy those of us who were good friends with both Dan and Jeff, as you can imagine. We just got done celebrating Dan’s life again a couple weeks ago, on the anniversary of his death. And now, losing Jeff is like salt on a wound, and I certainly didn’t know how strange losing someone can feel, not just how painful it feels. I don’t even know how to feel, actually, which I suspect is my natural propensity to shove overwhelming emotions down, down, down. It’s something I’ve struggled with for a long time, but I’m getting better.

Earlier last week, I received a phone call from my dad. He told me the doctors did a CT scan and, miraculously, his small-cell lung cancer tumor was completely gone, after a few months of chemo and radiation. There really are no words that put justice to the overwhelming joy I felt. I cried, hard, on the phone with my dad, which is a momentous occasion enough to behold already. He is one of the most incredible men, and has dealt with more bullshit in his life than anyone should ever have to. Somehow he was able to raise a decent son and an outstanding daugher (who was more like an aunt to me growing up, as she’s 10 years older than I am). Someday, I’ll have to ask him what his secret is.

How awkward it is to write these words. It seems both humbling and arrogant, though I don’t mean to encroach on either of those emotions right now, but rather to simply tell a story; though, I couldn’t tell you what that story is.

As a 23-year old, I can’t even fathom how hard it must be to lose a child. You raise them, educate them, influence them, and release them. Children are as much a part of you as you are yourself, I would imagine.

As it turns out, Dan actually beat cancer as a teenager and his parents often mention how appreciative they were to have been given those extra few years with their son. I don’t know Jeff’s parents, but I hope they can find comfort in any way possible right now.  Both Dan and Jeff were amazing, AMAZING men and we’re all honored to have known them. Their parents should be incredibly proud of having raised them into the shining stars they were.

One of my most treasured memories of my entire life so far, actually, was a summer flight in 2008 with Jeff piloting a 4-seater airplane when he was still living here in Minnesota. We flew out to Litchfield, MN to experience what we heard was one of the best burgers in America. And it was damn delicious. But, what truly made the day was the experience the 4 of us had flying together, just being young men, fooling around in the world. There were no ambitious life goals life, no worries about girls (well, no more than normal); we just were spending the summer doing what boys do best: be boys.

I’m not sure how these events will change me, but I can already feel the change happening. Wherever it takes me, I’m glad to be on some path, any path, filled with great friends & family. To me, that’s all you really need in life.

A human life cannot be summarized in a sentence, nor a paragraph or blog post, nor even an entire book or series of books. Our lives are all unique and worth experiencing to the fullest. It feels like I won’t be able to experience my life to the fullest without these great men, Dan and Jeff. It feels like part of my life is even taken away now that the rest of their lives were taken away entirely. God I miss those guys so much.

And it saddens all of us even more to know that their bright, young lives were cut short. The best solace we can take is remembering their lives honestly, not necessarily exagerrating the good points and minimizing the bad ones, as that would be deceitful and insulting to our lost and loved friends; but rather, enjoying our memories of these men as who they were and how they touched each of us.

My love goes out to all friends & family of the loved ones we all lost last Thursday night.