X

An aquaintance of mine died a few days ago. I guess it's not really dawning on me until now. I'll write "aquaintance", because formally we only knew each other from singing in the same choir for three years. But that choir toured quite a bit, and nothing brings people together like travelling: Durings those trips I've shared lipbalms and fears with him, skinny dipped with him, dealt with grief and stagefright together with him. He was a couple of years younger than me, which enabled us to develop an uncomplicated, siblinglike relationship.

Choir ended two years ago, and we lost touch. This year though, he was a freshman at my uni, so we've been bumping into each other on campus every other day. When I first heard that he passed away, my first thought was "Well that can't be true, I just saw him yesterday!" A very logical thought indeed, but for a while I simply couldn't take it seriously. I didn't even want to call a mutual friend to tell her, because I was half-subconsciously waiting for someone to tell me it wasn't true - it felt like a cruel joke, and I didn't want to fall for it.

Nobody is as loved as when they die, that's true - suddenly everyone has nothing but wonderful things to say about you. This is why it feels like such a cliché to say that X was remarkable, unusual, exceptional. But he was, which is why it is so hard for me to believe that he is gone - him of all people. When I first got to know him he was only fifteen years old. Let's face it, most fifteen-year old boys are either hopelessly awkward or overtly cocky. X was none of these things - he was relaxed, warm and funny. And as he grew up, he continued to be these things. He was open, caring and compassionate beyond belief. Once before a concert when I was quietly upset because the boy I fancied back then had failed to show up, X determinedly took it upon him to entertain me and brighten my mood, playfully hugging me and making me laugh. I hadn't even realized I was behaving differently, but evidently he had sensed my sadness - and cared.

A friend of his recently wrote: "Someone so loved can't just disappear, can they?" And even though that may sound naive, that's a tought I've been entertaining myself. He was such a lively person, he had so many dreams, so many friends, such a big life, such a warm heart - where is it all now? How did that elusive thing we call life just slip away, leaving only dead materia behind? Death is truely a mystery, and even though I have my beliefs to help me handle this, the fact still remains - the world just lost someone who could have made it into a better place. Of course, he already did, by spreading love and compassion like noone else - but still, why him?

These things are impossible to write without resorting to clichées. But I felt the need to write it anyway. The thing is, I was never so close to him that it would make sense for me to show up at the funeral, and I know his truely close friends are having an awful time right now - I don't want to be intruding on their grief. So this is me grieving.