Scott

One of my friends from my freshman year was killed in a car accident at the end of the summer. He was sitting in the backseat of a car that was hit from behind by a drunk driver going over 100 miles an hour on the freeway. He was crushed.

I heard the day it happened. I was with my summer lover on the last night we'd see each other before I left for school. I had to sit for a while and text back and forth with the good friend who told me, but then I went back with him and ate sushi, then had sex in his room.

I went to Scott's funeral this week. The friend who told me he'd died was my roommate from last year and one of my best friends since she was on my freshman hall. She had been really upset and we went together. I'd been expecting to have to support her through it and had this in my head. I knew it was going to be hard, but I was able to wryly joke about what the funeral would be like up until an hour before I went.

I didn't realize until I was sitting in that memorial, looking at the pictures and videos and listening to the songs he used to play, how broken up I was about what happened. I'd known I was upset, in some distant way, but I'd thought I was removed enough from him that I was okay.

Turns out that was just denial.

Yes, we hadn't been close since freshman year, but back then it was him, his best friend, my friend who told me he'd died, and me up all night playing music, smoking pot, and just hanging out. They were my late night buddies.

He was a good person. Laid back, giving. At funerals they say a lot of things about the dead person that are platitudes, glossing over anything bad. The funny thing here was that everything they said was true. He was an optimist, almost childishly so. He made everyone around him happy. They talked about how he used to do crazy shit; we got to share stories about his antics.

And even though it had been years since we'd really hung out, I miss him. I miss his existence. I can't fathom that he's gone; it just makes no sense.

And I don't know how to react or what to feel. His girlfriend, who he'd been with for three years, was at the funeral and I can't imagine what she's going through. What am I feeling, then, compared to that?

I know, though, that it's horrible and that I'm sad. I just need to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do about it.

4 comments:

Curvaceous Dee said...

Well shit, honey. I am so sorry to read this - and I am sorry also that you're finding grieving difficult (at least, that's the impression I got from your post).

I've dealt with a lot of death, and if you ever want to talk I'd be more than happy to chat or email with you.

*hugs*
Dee

papercutsandplastic said...

Thanks, Dee.

I've been trying to reach out to other people that knew him. It helps, but I think mostly I'll just have to ride it out. It is hard to know what to do now.

But I'm glad to be feeling something.

Myca said...

Oh my goodness, I'm sorry.

I know this post is 9 or 10 months old, and I hope this comment doesn't just bring up residual badness, but I've been in a similar situation, and I just wanted to offer my condolences.

---Myca

Paradox said...

Thanks, Myca. It's not as fresh, but it's still so strange to think about.

On living, loving, learning, and fucking with the materials I've got at hand.

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