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On Valentine's Day, 2007, one of my friends from high school was killed in Iraq. He was nineteen years old, and even though we hadn't been in contact much after I graduated from high school, it was still a tremendous blow to me. We were in marching band together, and he was my best friend's date for junior prom. He was an excellent trumpet player, occasionally a bit of a class clown, and the kind of guy who could always make you smile, even on a bad day.
His funeral was held at his home church exactly seven months before what would have been his twentieth birthday. The memories of that day are permanently burned into my brain, for better or for worse, and they come flashing back to me at the strangest of times - when the wind blows my hair in my face a certain way, for a second I'm back on that hilltop cemetery, watching the Marines present his mother with the American flag. I got through the funeral by holding on to my anger and letting the military discipline of the whole service strengthen me.
But now, it's more than a year later. All the anniversaries relating to his death have passed (the day he died, the next day when I found out about it, the day of the funeral), and it still hurts. In a way, I feel even more lost, sad, and empty than I did at the time - probably because I was still in shock then. I've talked to my mother about it a little bit, and she has been very understanding (she lost her mother at the age of twelve, so while I feel kind of guilty moaning about a friend from school, I know that she can empathize), but she's also advised me to essentially let it go and not obsess about it so much.
On some level, I know she's right - that Danny wouldn't want me to be sad, and that fixating on his death is not going to bring him back. But at the same time, this is probably the first big loss I have experienced. I mean, I have lost pets before, and three of my grandparents, as well as my great-grandparents and other relatives and friends of the family...but I think the thing that gets me about his death was that he was so young, and that he didn't have to die. I hate pulling my political views into the situation, but I can't get over the fact that if GWB hadn't lied about WMDs and hadn't been so intent on creating a "legacy," no matter what the cost, that maybe my friend and thousands of others would still be alive. Maybe they wouldn't - maybe there's some cosmic force that dictates that X person has to die at X time, by whatever means necessary, but it still hurts and angers me that that smirking goon of a "president" is still alive and well and in office, and my friend never lived to see his twentieth birthday.
I don't know. I guess this is getting kind of jumbled, but I just felt the need to say something, to connect with somebody who understands this irrational grief. People say that time heals all wounds, but a year later I feel almost worse off than I did during the initial loss. I guess what I'm asking is...will it eventually fade? Does it get any easier over time? I know the textbook answers; I know that it's typical to experience grief more intensely after the initial shock wears off. But I don't know what course the pain is going to take for me, and how long it will take to get there (wherever "there" is). I'm not even completely sure I know how to deal with it - it's like a change has been made to my very being, and I don't quite know how to adjust. I suppose the loss of innocence, in a way, will do that to you.
Anyway. Thanks for listening (reading, really), and I wish you all the best in dealing with your struggles, as I try to figure out how to deal with mine. :grouphug: You guys are awesome.
Love and peace, ~Cabcere
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