Caution: About death

When I was 7 I lost a best friend.

His name was Marc. He was my second cousin. He was 2 years older than me, but we got along great.

Marc and I saw most of the Disney films in theatre together.

We built blanket forts and played for hours.

I don't remember much because of my age, but I remember his essence.

He was so fun and carefree. He was a good kid with a huge personality.

But Marc was sick.

Some of my most vivid memories of him were when he was in the hospital.

Chemo therapy and radiation made his little body so frail. His hair turned white and became very thin.

But he never lost his spirit.

Today he would have been 29.

I can't believe it's been 20 years.

I miss him a lot. I try not to think about it, but I also don't want to forget.

When he died, I didn't truly understand what death meant. It wasn't until I was 16, when I lost another friend, that I finally came to understand that Marc was gone, and never coming back.

I learned to cope by holding onto one fact. And I don't care what you say about proof or religion. I need to believe this to be true. I need it to be able to live with knowing I'll never see some people again.

That energy never dies. That death is not a void, but a dispersal of energy.

That you can call on the energies of the ones you've lost, and ask them to guide and protect you from another side.

I call them my spiritual team. My energy gang of angels who always have my back.

I need to believe that they've gone somewhere better, that they don't hurt or fear or suffer in any form.

That they've found peace, that they've gone "home".

I need to believe that.

Who I am crumbles if I were to ever learn otherwise.

And I don't care if this post makes you uncomfortable. I know it's sad. I know it's not your ideal read. But it's what I'm feeling and thinking, and that's what this is about.

At too young an age I lost a piece of my heart I will never get back. It is a part of me just like my eyes, my hair, or the birthmark on my knee.

If it had been a pet or a grandparent, maybe it would be different. Because those things are supposed to die.

Kids aren't supposed to die. They do, but they shouldn't. What happened to Marc was a nightmare anomaly.

I believe it's why I feel and think so deeply.

And if you want to know me, you ought to know that piece.

Love your family. Hold them close. Make memories. Forgive quickly.

None of us are here indefinitely.

All my love,