Two Years

Two years ago today was Nate's funeral.  It was absolutely one of the most difficult, awful things in my life I've ever had to go through. He was so young, so good, so strong.  He was a solid constant in all of our lives, and his loss is still a profound shock.  I feel like I lost a brother, someone who I had planned on sharing more time with, more future with.   I think of him every day, and wish I could share with him everything that's happened since he left.  I wish he could tell me all the things he's been up to, the adventures he's had in the past two years.   He was such an impressive person, there's no doubt that he'd have done amazing things.

After the wake and the funeral two years ago, I had a hard time leaving.  When I closed my eyes I'd be standing by Nate in his coffin, or helping to push him into the hearse, watching it drive him away.  It was more terrible than I'd ever thought it could be. I felt defined by my grief, by what had happened to my friend, my brother, to the details of his death and the injustice of the whole thing.

But I've since been able to step back from Nate, my Lost Friend, the one we saw in our black suits and pinned flowers.   Lately when I close my eyes, I'm with him the last time I saw him alive.  We made plans for when we'd see each other again, play music, maybe another game of paintball.  We hugged like family and parted ways.

His life is what defined him, what helped to define all of us.   I'm glad to leave today to two years ago.  Let it stay there.

I miss you, Nate.  We all do.