I'm 48 years old.
I mentioned last week that a friend from high school died.
Today, my ex-girlfriend also lost a friend. She was a year younger than me; I knew her too, she was in my confirmation class. On Facebook, my ex wrote they were physics lab partners. They did this cardboard boat race in the pool, and my ex can't swim and has anxiety. Jen told her not to worry. She'd take care of her. I remember her telling me that over the phone while I was at college.
I still don't think of myself as old. That might be naive, or just stubborn. In denial. I mean, I have a preschooler. I still have stupid, childish hobbies and interests. It's graying, but I still have my hair. I'm still learning things. I think I'm middle-aged but uness I'm getting to 96, ain't nothing middle about it.
When my parents were my age, their son had a college degree already. Their daughter has just gotten into the gifted school. And their two best friends were already dead and buried, long ago.
Leroy was a high school teacher, robbed and murdered by his own students. Where I'm from, that's the kind of horrible crime that gets a 24-hour news cycle, at most, because there's a fresh new hell right around the corner. I was just a kid, so I think they tried to hide their pain, not really aware yet I think of what kind of an observer I am.
Robert, my godfather, died of cancer. My dad worked retail his whole life, so I went to his funeral with my mom. She sobbed nearly the whole time, and I learned that just because you're their kid, it doesn't mean that sometimes you're not the lead adult in the relationship.
I really can't fathom that kind of loss when you're in your late 30s. You think you might, you expect to, lose the grown-ups in your life. You don't think about losing your peers.
I don't really have a point tonight. Just grief, a lot of it second hand.
Let your loved ones know how you feel about them while they're still here. While you're still here.
