I spent some time with friends tonight. It was fun. Different. During the process, someone said something that jogged a hazy memory of an inside joke. I muttered the words, and Ashe knew it immediately. Soon, we had laughed ourselves to tears. I needed that, I think. It was so unexpected. Wonderful. Truly.

I couldn’t recall who we had shared the joke with or when. My brain brought up a person and a time that didn’t jive. I think, perhaps, that we had thought about this a few years ago, and that’s the connection that my brain made.

But, no. It didn’t start then. In fact, this joke had started in high school if you can believe it. It was a commentary on A Streetcar Named Desire. Yep. In the lunchroom, a friend that I had long forgotten donned a faux southern accent and motioned while making a joke that could only happen once. A joke that would have us laughing yourself to tears some 15 years later. I mean, damn.

I found myself reminiscing and in a good mood as I walked home. I wanted to look up this friend. We haven’t talked for a few good years. The last time I saw him, we were in a bar, drunk. We were excited to see one another, but he was so drunk that he kept telling me how cool his friend Cole from high school was. A weird experience but talk about flattering!

I looked him up on Facebook, excited to reconnect. But my hopes were dashed when I saw that his page was a memorial page. He passed away in January. I was three months too late to tell him that I love him, miss him, wish we talked more.

I spent a good chunk of time trying to figure out how (diabetes). In the process, I saw how loved he was. People remembered his wit (yup!) and love of music.

I went back further than this year. I wanted to see what he talked about (politics, HRC, puns) and how. At one point, I saw him reply to something with “lololol,” the response I use instead of “lmfao” more often than not. I couldn’t help but see our similarities, and that made the hurt all the more real.

So, I’m feeling pretty sad right now. I wish I had made more of an effort to be his friend as an adult. I think we would have gotten along swimmingly. I would have enjoyed him and hope he would have felt the same.

But, you know, judging from our last interaction, I impacted him pretty strongly. That’s something that I appreciate immensely as I remember him.

I wonder if he ever thought of me, remembered our good times. Perhaps he didn’t even remember the inside joke. That’s okay.

I did for a minute, and it made my life better. I think I can only laugh and smile at the memories, no matter how foggy.

Because no matter how much I look at his profile and his photos or try to piece together his life from posts on social media, it can’t bring him back. It won’t make us closer.

But it does teach me a lesson about my time here and how I need to use it. So I’m going to wrap up this post and send a few messages to people who are here to see them.

Oh, by the way. I love you, dear reader.

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