It’s funny what memories hit you when you realize what day it is. Dear reader, this is something that I wrote on one of the recent July 9th’s.. You see, anniversary days aren’t always easy to make it through, and the right circumstances will push you into a sort of deja vu.
That moment when:
The songs that you listened to (“Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls) and the weather (it was cool enough to sit outside the hospital doors on the bench when my candy striper/volunteer shift was over). That summer smell of warm air mixed with the flowers planted at the main entrance of the hospital, with hints of cigarettes from the smokers nearby. The surprise of seeing a friend who’d just returned from summer camp—the same camp you skipped so that you could finish your summer school class—jumping out of your sister’s car as they picked you up after volunteering. The disappointment from not getting to drive—I mean, after all, you DID have your driver’s permit—which subsided with the promise of icecream as your friend and your sister heralded you with camp stories from the past week. You wished you had gone after all, and the regret still settles in your chest—even 18 years later. One last hug, one last “drive safe”—it wasn’t enough. Today—18 years ago—wasn’t enough to prepare you for the next two weeks but it would have to do. It’s funny what a memory will do to you… “And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings..”
I’ll always remember you, Brian Michael. Thank you for starting to teach me to say goodbye. I still tell the stories of our Halloween weekends, our binging of Disney’s 3 Musketeers, our movie quoting through out rollercoaster rides. I still drive safe, just like you made me promise.