Even the best fall down sometimes

My life changed drastically 4 years ago. I remember it as though it was yesterday. I was driving my car in Michigan, on my way to turn in my sister-in-law's final exam. I was visiting for a few days while I was in between jobs - I had just left the television station where I was a reporter/anchor, and didn't start my new non-tv job for about a week, so I headed home. About a week earlier, I had received some horrible news - a friend from college had been in a terrible car accident and was in the hospital in a drug-induced coma.

I have to say something here, in order to be completely honest with myself, and you. He wasn't just a friend. I had been in love with him for years. There was something about him. About us together. Everyone saw it. Everyone commented on it. And, one time years before, something happened. And then it stopped as quickly as it began. You see, there were reasons that "we" wouldn't - couldn't - work out. Obligations and boundaries he needed to respect. Consequently, our friendship became severed and we lost touch.

I never stopped thinking about him, or wondering. If I had a nickel for everytime I said the words "what if", I'd own a house along Ocean's Drive in Newport, Rhode Island. I saw him once after college. At a friend's wedding. The same smile. The same look in his eyes. That would never fade away. That fire would never die. Just thinking about it is painful.

So I'm driving down 696 in Michigan, when I get a phone call from a friend. I comment on how I heard he was doing better, and how wonderful that was. She fell silent. "Kristin, I'm so sorry. He died." I hung up the phone and screamed. I screamed as loud as I could. I cried. I yelled. I tried to understand the words she just uttered. Dead. Dead. It didn't make any sense. How can he be dead? He can't be dead....

That was 4 years ago. I have since come to peace with what happened. A very slow peace, albeit. I have realized a few things since that awful tragedy. Always tell the people you love that you love them. Even if it scares you, and you're not sure how they'll react. Tell them anyways. At least you won't wonder what would have happened if you had. I realized that I held onto that for so long in order to realize I needed to let go of other things. For example, my marriage. I recently realized while visiting his grave that I loved the person I was when I was with him. And I want that again.

I wrote his mother a letter and dropped it in her mailbox before I moved. She called me. She told me it brought her hope. That people still remember. That people still grieve. That people still love him. That's something she never needs to worry about.

Eric, I have no doubt that somewhere, someday, somehow, you and I will collide once again. Until then, I will be missing you, and trying to find the person you showed me I could be.