Posted on November 8, 2005 14 Comments
On a rainy Sunday morning exactly two years ago, I was awoken by the shrill ring of my cell phone to hear that one of my dearest friends had died. He was killed instantly, in the middle of the night, by an intoxicated SUV driver who was speeding with no lights on, barreling the wrong way down an expressway. In the wake of the tragedy, investigators noted that the drunk driver left no skid marks on the road. He never even saw my friend.
Nothing can prepare you for the instantaneous death of someone you care about. Words unspoken flowed through me, into trails of tears. Sadness and guilt overwhelmed me.
He was such a caring, wonderful friend – we were practically inseparable in college. During those formative years, he encouraged me to try things I never would have attempted, like watching scary movies on Halloween and rock climbing. We tutored together at a local elementary school together for years and completed the majority of our service hours together – everything from working soup kitchens in hairnets to badly singing holiday carols in nursing homes to dressing up for the Jaycee’s haunted house (and scaring lots of small children). Always “back-up-dates,” we attended dances and weddings together until we both found our special someones…and then we relied on each other for counseling!
After school we grew apart. Separated by distance and by our changing lives, I had only spoken to my friend twice the year before he died. Did he know how much I cared for him as a true friend? Did he know how much I valued his support and encouragement through the years? Although we hadn’t hung out in a while, I still planned to dance with him at my wedding (and his), planned to make sure our kids would be friends, planned to see him. Planned to see him.
The guilt I felt after my friend’s death arose from this distance. He had called me at least three times during his last six months to say hello, and I never returned his phone call. At the time, I was embarrased that I didn’t have my license or a car to go visit him. I didn’t have the money for insurance or for the payments, and he lived out in the surburbs. He always offered to drive, but I don’t like asking people. I always figured he’d move to the city.
Friendship, as it turns out, is not a matter of convenience. Life happens when you’re not looking, when you’re caught staying late at work or stuck on the train. Life happens all around you, and then one day, before you know it, it’s gone.
I often think to myself, “If only he would have been sick, I would have visited him. If only I had a timetable, I would have spent it with him. I would have written him letters thanking him for his life, and how it impacted mine. I would have let him know how much I cared.” Why didn’t I do all those things while he was alive?
If your best friend ceased to exist today, would she know how much you love her? Would she know all the things you’ve never said? What keeps you apart – distance or something deeper?
We work so hard towards that illusive “Someday,” as in, “Someday I’ll have enough to lay on the beach with my best friends and retire in peace.” Or, “someday I’ll save enough to spend more time with my family – right now I have to focus on work.” But what if Someday never comes? What will you have been working for? And why haven’t you been living?
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November 8th, 2005 @ 11:00 pm
I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. I’ve been thinking a lot of these similar things recently. My parent’s best man was recently killed by the offside mirror of an SUV on a rainy night in NYC about a week and half ago. He was such a wonderful man…the type to bring many people together across all walks.
This financial focus has made me see my values and true goals in a different way…and the instant loss of a wonderful man just brings a sense of urgency.
November 9th, 2005 @ 12:44 am
Thanks for this post. I first started reading finance blogs for the money tips, but it’s posts like this one that have kept me coming back to many of them.
November 9th, 2005 @ 1:59 am
I’m off to call my best friend right now…
November 9th, 2005 @ 4:21 am
I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult the calendar -Robert Brault
November 9th, 2005 @ 11:14 am
It’s 6:09 AM out here on the East Coast…my best friend wants to know why I just called him (he’s in Iowa) to let him know I missed him.
I am sorry to hear of your loss, and I hope each day gets a little easier for you.
November 9th, 2005 @ 1:55 pm
I know exactly what you mean. When my father died (after an illness) I realized how important it is to tell people how you feel, show them that you love them, and never take them for granted. I’m sorry about your friend. I’m sorry that people are stupid and drive drunk.
This was a brave post.
November 10th, 2005 @ 4:56 pm
This post has got to be your best ever. It shows everyone how fragile life and how it can be taken from us when we least expect it. Luckily, I told the person I care about most how fortunate I am to have her in my life earlier this year. It’s never too late to let the ones you care the most that you’re grateful and fortunate to have them your life.
Life does happen all around us, we’re all fragile human beings who should make the best of everyday. Life is too short not to enoy it.
November 10th, 2005 @ 5:05 pm
Wow, thanks you guys. I might not know you in person, but I definitely feel the love.
Think I’ll leave this one up a few more days while I’m on the road.
November 10th, 2005 @ 5:54 pm
Mladic-I cried. Kevin’s spirit lives on in all of us and I know he’ll always have your back.
November 10th, 2005 @ 6:02 pm
Love you NM!!!
November 10th, 2005 @ 6:50 pm
Thanks for sharing this story, very touching.
November 13th, 2005 @ 6:02 am
Very touching indeed. Yes, life is indeed very fragile. Well, to link two-and-two together, atleast, doing our personal finances in a systematic manner, we would (hopefully) have one worry out of the way, so that we have that little extra time, to go meet/hang out with our friends or family.
Mouli
November 13th, 2005 @ 10:47 pm
My condolences on your loss. Although I know there is nothing I can think or do to make you feel better, I do hope you can feel better soon.
November 15th, 2005 @ 6:11 pm
I’m sorry Nicole.