So let me begin with the big news.
I lost my best friend. I hadn't visited this blog in months, but now looking back at the most recent post I'd managed to squeeze out before abandoning my Internet soapbox, I realized it's all about the last time I actually interacted with him in the flesh. After reading it about 800 million times, picking each detail apart and analyzing if there were any indications, not just in my writing description but during the weekend as a whole experience, as to why this would happen, I've ran head on into a dead end.
To further explain, let me give a tiny glimpse into the world of Ryan and I.
From the moment I met Ryan I was in love. I was infatuated with his ambiguous aspirations, his ability to block out the hasty judgment of others that plagues us all so deeply, and most of all, his charismatic charm, the way he could talk to you and make you truly feel like you were the greatest person in the world. He won me over right from the start.
Ryan lived with me, my mother, and a slew of various friends on and off for around 3 years. We shared a room, a bathroom, a roof, and a life. He was always so optimistic, and never doubted that the wrongs of the world could be made right with the right approach and a whole lot of love. He was compassionate and understanding, and his soft spoken kind words will exist in my heart forever.
Scroll forward to Tuesday September 21st. I was sitting in history class awaiting another thrilling lecture on Greek Constitutionalism when my phone rang. Obviously, a phone ringing is nothing out of the ordinary. When I glanced down to see if it was anything important, I saw that it was simply my other very good friend, Mel, who usually calls at the most random times of the day or night to replay the best and most intimate details of her outings and life's occurrences. Let it go to voice mail. Mel never leaves messages anyhow. A few seconds later- there was my voice mail icon. So I discreetly check the message; could be important, right? As I'm half engulfed in the message and half distracted by reloading lead in my pencil, I realize that Mel's tone is hasty and panicked. This is unlike Mel. She's very nonchalant, upbeat, and vibrant. An unsettling sense of intensity flushed over my entire body. This was no a social call. This was not a happy call. This was communication of dread. Ohhhhhhh no.
I step out to call her back. She answers, and in the matter of seconds warns me this is not news she wants to deliver. The true set up of disaster. The seconds feel like light years as words fall out of her mouth and absorb into my unsuspecting brain.
According to rumor, Ryan was dead.
Suddenly, the stream of students flushing in and out of hallways and up and down stairs became a vague cloud of blended colors. Every sound faded back into one droning murmur. I felt everything inside of me drop. The gravity of the situation so rapidly descended every organ in my body until they all hit the floor and splattered at my feet; I literally felt the blood drain from my face until and rush to my heart.
In a surreal daze of confusion and astonishment, I walked back into my classroom, threw all my materials in my bag, and just walked out. With tunnel vision and about 2902428374823432 horrible thoughts floating through my head, it was all I could do to just get out in the parking lot, out into daylight and away from the crowds of happy little college kids, and to my car so I could make sense of the past 2 minutes.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Moment of truth, I thought. If I called Ryan's phone, I knew one of two things would happen. Ryan would answer and I'd get some sort of explanation from him as to why and who started the rumors. Or his mother would answer and my whole world would come crashing down. I prayed I'd hear his gentle voice on the other line, assuring me I had nothing to fret over.
After two rings, the phone answered. I said hello as hastily as I could, and then waited. A pause. Pauses are never good in these situations. A squeaky and reluctant voice finally managed to push out a faint "hello". Oh god. It was his mother.
The events following that do not need to be divulged. Mainly because I'd rather not relive that day, even if in words. Truthfully, there are no words I know of to describe the senses that steamrolled through my mind and body over the next couple of days. I lived in a haze on confusion and bewilderment, fueled by xanax and cough medicine. I slept to avoid thinking. I went outside of the house one total time, and that was just to buy more cigarettes.
The service was everything an event of that circumstance could be. His family and friends gathered together in one small room, and together we shared comfort in our mutual sensitivity and the roller coaster of aftershock we were all riding front row on. I was able to say some goodbyes; these are not the kind of settling, pacifying, or conclusive goodbyes given after an undesirable break-up, a meeting you know will be the last, or a farewell to an accepted death. It was the kind that you say because there simply is nothing left to say. I could continually beat myself and his memory until there was nothing positive left to relish in. I could pick apart and over analyze every moment, every conversation, every sign that maybe things weren't okay, but in the end I'd torture myself and dwindle our precious time together down to nothing but an unsolved case. Ryan would be so disappointed with such an outcome; and so would I.
So I left a collection of words on the floor that day, with hope still that whatever afterlife brings us mere mortals when we take our final bow, allows him to somehow hear my final bid adieu.
I'm now struggling between the realities and concreteness of waking life, and the in between of consciousness and sleep, where my mind is just boggled with questions that have no answers. No sense, no logic, no closure. I'm learning to disconnect with the idea of Ryan's physical; his body, his voice, his smile, his stupid emo-like haircut that drew in the dumbest broads and pushed away so much of the societal norm who crossed his path. Instead, I'm trying to focus on the gratification of having experienced and been directly embraced by his charisma, his well chosen words of reason and tranquility, his warmth, his humor, and his love.
Since then, I've tried to stay busy, but not overwhelmed. I've never experienced a loss such as this, and the most difficult part in healing is that I wish I could heal his family. I'd relive Odysseus's trying and struggle-filled journey if it were stamped with a guarantee the end result equaled their eternal stability and well-being. But as we all know, that's just not possible.
Having now had a genuine experience with loss, I can assure anyone who will come into contact with it in the future that there is no "making sense" of things. The dealer of life tosses us the hand we have. There is no promise of satisfaction, of triumph, of stability, of achievement, or understanding. We are given a certain amount of processing skills, intellectual storage space, and a set of basic instincts. With those people have accomplished the greatest of feats and by the same hand, committed inconceivable inhumane acts.
Life seems more real than ever before now. The opportunity, both good and bad, that imposes itself on us is simply astonishing. I now take those opportunities as ones that I act upon not just to better myself, but to allow the memory of my friend have a place with all of us who will continue to miss his presence in every tangible form.
I had another mix assignment from the CD exchange group. This time I made a compilation of music I enjoyed sharing with Ryan. Music both he and I liked. Music I'm sure he would have liked had I got another chance to have him sit shotgun.
A little personal dedication of Ryan's and my favorite thing outside of people- music.
Here you go. From energetically woven electro-pop and heavy beats, to ambient smooth riding tones, and never leaving out the always appropriate songs of lust and longing, this is just a little piece of a big puzzle who's big picture was my favorite picture. You and Me, buddy.
Downfall:
This playlist website didn't have some of the songs I included on the original mix. While I am a bit overly picky when it comes to the order of tracks, I'll overlook that this time and just simply add the other songs below this.
Color of Clouds "I Want You"
