Remembering S

Today is the 17th anniversary of S’s death.
S was one of the funniest, most obnoxious people I’ve ever known.
He could make me laugh and laugh,
even when I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

But S was also fiercely loyal.

I went through a rough time when I was eighteen.
I’d just finished my freshmen year of college
and wasn’t sure where to go from there.

One particularly difficult night
there was a lot of drama
involving an apartment lease and some so-called friends,
and I just needed to get away.

I called a cab and S left the group to come with me.
But it wasn’t until we were somewhere in the boondocks outside Madison
that we realized we didn’t have much money.

After a somewhat panicked, whispered consultation
we asked the driver to stop.
We gave the confused man all the money we had and got out.
Then S and I walked.

I don’t remember all the remaining details
but I know there was swearing.
And laughter.
Followed by more swearing and laughter.

But at no point was there finger-pointing, blame, guilt or shame.
S was my friend.
My best friend.
He knew I was already hurting enough.

The next day, though,
there was undoubtedly hell-to-pay.

S could only rein it in for so long.
              

22 thoughts on “Remembering S

  1. Tracy, I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend all those years ago but glad you had the chance to know him. This reminds me of a line from a Leonard Cohen song: “If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory.”

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