If you stare off
into space long enough everything gets kind of blurry.
There's some comfort in that. As if your eyes just
kinda gave up on trying to process the information
anymore. Which is a true reflection of how I feel
right now.
When I was
10, my father remarried and I suddenly had a
step-brother, Justin. He was a year or two younger
than me and since I had grown up around my uncle
who was 3 years older? It was my turn to be the
leader. He was very funny and painfully skinny.
I vividly remember my father being able to pick
him up with a finger and twirl him around. The
marriage only lasted a couple of years, but my
weekends with my father became mini-adventures as
Justin and I would do the normal trouble-making things
boys did at that age. He was originally from
California and had never seen snow and I remember it
being fun to play in the snow as if it was the first
time again. We had a lot of fun. I kept in touch with
him a few more years as his mother remained close to
our family and the last I heard he was doing well,
married with kids. I just found out that he died
yesterday. Some random mix of an energy drink and bath
salts (which is a way of getting buzzed I've never
heard of) and it was just an unfortunate lethal
combination. Gone.
Obviously thoughts
go to the family but there's really nothing that can
be said and when you're 2500 miles away you have
little choice but to be introspective and stare off
into space. I immediately called my father when I
got the email and we were both speechless. To be so
intimately close to someone 25 years ago and hear this
news is very surreal. Because the boy you knew
obviously became a man and we have no connection with
that Justin. Only the boy in our memories.
The feeling is
reminiscent of "Stand By Me" when Dreyfuss is sitting
in the truck having found out a childhood friend was
killed. You replay moments in your head from decades
ago and it suddenly stains every memory with this
heaviness that just... well, makes you feel old. We're
all a collection of experiences and the older you get,
every single memory gets a beginning, middle and end
because everyone passes on. When you're younger your
memories are nearly all a beginning and a
middle.
Since I never
knew Justin as an adult, I'm stuck in time. I'm stuck
riding bikes with him on "The Hills of Doom".
Something we did often enough that we convinced my
father to make a video out of it. There was a version
with music, and normally I would edit this down
to 3 minutes before uploading but there's something
about the timing of 80s video tape I just can't bear
to touch. Even the version my father made with music
felt "off" for some reason. No, this is how
I remember the day and I adore hearing my father
direct us. The unfinished aspect of this video feels
far too appropriate to mess with...
To have a memory
you held onto for 25 years unexpectedly change because
of something tragic is incredibly hard to express to
those who haven't felt it. It isn't overly emotional,
it just feels like someone stole something from you.
Again, thoughts and all loving energy goes to the
family members who are in an absolute state of shock
and emergency dealing with something with so much
immediacy and heartbreak.
I however will
just continue to catch myself staring into space and
when it becomes too blurry I'll shake my head and
continue on doing what I was doing.
