Two weeks ago, a friend of mine, whom I knew since my 2nd year of Secondary (High) school, passed away. He got into a car accident and came out with a coma and short after the weekend he met his maker.
I wouldn’t claim we were the closest of friends but, he played a big part in a year that ranks high among my worst ever. We were cast to spend our first year of University together, attending lectures, labs, solving assignments, etc. We helped each other in our own ways to get through one of the toughest of years, a year in which I wasn’t ready to face all its new overwhelming challenges. A year in which one bears every single burden there is to bear, and that wasn’t pretty. After that our paths barely crossed and we grew apart, something I didn’t mind. As I mentioned, we weren’t the closest of friends.
Still, news of his death hit me and left me in a daze. I wasn’t particularly surprised, but the whole thing sounded strange and out-worldly and bitter. I might have gotten used to hearing death news of guys my age due to that unstable sinus rhythm of this country’s sanity, but when it is someone who have participated in that massive production that is your life trust me, it brushes differently against your shoulder.
It feels like this person, took a part of you and left. It’s that “leaving” that I feel. You think you would always have those who co-starred these episodes of your life when you’re retelling them, but in fact you wouldn’t. You’d start recalling those vivid memories you see when you close your eyes and visualize the scenes and you see them in there but soon as you open your eyes and look around. They won’t be there to complete your sentences, correct the bits you romanticized or laugh at the -now insignificant- hardships you overcame.
Group A, Section 8
May you rest in peace.