I just got thrown off my game a bit. I had in mind what I was going to blog about, another rant about traveling, as if I’m the only one to have ever left town with a kids. As I was getting Nicholas to sleep I read a few new blogs I recently added to my reader. Then did a quick check on Facebook before coming out here to write my blog.
A friend on Facebook has joined a group in memory of two boys who were killed during my junior year of high school. They both went to the Catholic high school, so, one I had never met. The other was one of my best friends from grade school.
I have never been able to shake the loss of this friend.
I have had dreams about him fairly frequently through out the 20 years since his death. In my dreams there is always some crazy, whacked out reason why everyone had to say he was dead, when really he was a spy in Russia, or undercover in Albania, on a peace corps mission, and on and on. It’s always so wonderful to see him and I cry every time. I tell him I knew he wasn’t dead. I was the only one to hold out hope. Then when I awaken, it takes me a few moments to realize my dream is nothing more than a way for me to try to cope with this horrible loss. I am sad all over.
The twist to this story is that the boys died in a gun accident. One boy thought he was holding an empty shotgun and mistakenly shot the other. As a third boy ran for help, another shot was heard as the shooter turned the shotgun on himself and committed suicide. My friend was not the shooter. I never knew the shooter. I have been mad at the shooter for 20 years.
So I am joining the memorial group to post some photos and stories of my friend from our grade school days. I am also hoping to learn more about the boy who took him from me. Most people on the group will be classmates of them both. My hope is to let go of some of the anger. Maybe by learning more about the shooter, I will eventually be able to think of him by his name and mourn his death as well.
I still miss my friend.