After my roommate and I had finished our weekly radio show, we grabbed some food, cleaned up at our apartment and joined some friends to bar-hop. I somehow managed (with a lot of help of my friends) to become plastered. It was the drunkest I have ever been, before or since.
I remember lots of beer, shots and laughing a lot. We went to regular bars, shot bars, and at least two different dance clubs. At the second dance club I began to find the whole scene really pathetic (this often happened around 2:00 AM for me). In my inebriated state I couldn't find my friends at the club so I decided to walk home.
This might have been a good idea if I wasn't all of the below:
A) Drunk, really, really drunk
B) In cold weather with no jacket
C) about 2-3 miles away from home
D) 2-3 miles from home and having to cross major thoroughfares
Nonetheless, I left. I wasn't mad, I just wanted to leave and I was ready to sleep. So I began my journey and I kept repeating to myself, "don't get hit by a car", "don't look drunk" -- over and over again. Finally, I arrived home.
I had a message on our answering machine. I pushed the button and there it was.
The worst message of my life.
I called my friend back as she didn't say exactly what had happened. I thought she was stuck somewhere drunk without a designated driver. I soon found out that one of my close friends had died in a car wreck earlier that day....probably sometime during our radio show.
I told her she was wrong or that she didn't know for sure. It was a classic denial stage setting in. However, the initial shock and disbelief was quickly fomenting into anger. I was seething with life, everything, God -- I kicked and punched the walls. In my drunken stupor I squirmed on the floor like a child writhing in rage. How could God take my beautiful friend? How could he take my best friend’s little sister? I screamed and repeated obscenities over and over. I expected to somehow black out so it could all to go away. As I recall these flashbacks so vividly - it’s like a tiny glimpse of hell itself.
It was so hard to understand. It's still hard to remember but as I write I feel just a shadow, a ghost feeling that still lingers just a little while as I write about it.
Mikey was special. Not in the "great person" special - she was special because she was different. She was moody, funny, fun-loving, jig-saw puzzle and old movie loving, quick to anger but most of all, my friend. She had a way of making you do just about anything for her. Maybe she was manipulative but more than that I think she was magnetic. When we weren't fighting or annoyed with one another she could make me feel special. She did this to everyone, because at her memorial service, she had just about everyone convinced. Everyone thought they were Mikey's best friend because she made everyone feel part of her world.
So, why rehash all this?. Is it some kind of therapeutic thing? A need to story-tell as to feel better about it? No, I got over Mikey's passing a long time ago.
I'm writing because I feel guilty.
I feel guilty because every year, Mikey fades away a little more. I think about her a little less than the year before. I had a little photo of Mikey next to my bed for years that I finally put away about five years ago. Assuredly, I probably forget more every year; the way she would smile or how she would say a certain word. I feel guilty because I have moved on.
This isn't to say I have forgotten her or that I don't think about her. She still sneaks into my dreams every so often. The last time I was a time traveler trying to warn her not to get into the car. But, cruelly and inevitably, time keeps moving. Mikey's still 19 and now I'm 33. She's staying in college and now I'm a father of two (with another on the way). She's still young and vibrant and now I'm older, mature and settled.
God willing, I'll keep getting older. I'm sure some details will continue to fade and there's nothing I can do about that.
However, blurry memories, are still memories. And its true, I have moved on, but I won't ever truly forget. I'm sure Mikey would want it that way.
So I'm writing today because I want to feel sad again.
I want to remember that the world lost something 12 years ago this month. It lost a true individual who was loved by many. We still miss you, Mikey.
yeah, she was crazy, but ya know, a good crazy.
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