In Memory...

This post should have gone up yesterday but I just never found the time to do it right so I waited.

Yesterday, August 9th, marked the two year anniversary of the day my friend Danny died. I tried to read the post I wrote that day a few days ago, knowing the anniversary was approaching, and I still couldn't do it. I'm not sure I've actually ever re-read it, to be honest, because it's just too painful for me.

I use the word "died" as opposed to "passed away." I'm not a fan of that term. It's too gentle, too easy. Death is not a gentle and easy thing. Even for those who died peacefully or even those deaths you've "been expecting" for a long time, the actual end is not gentle and easy for those left behind. It's a jarring and brutal experience to have someone you care about torn from your life. It's probably a selfish way to look at it - but there it is.

I still have difficulty believing that he's gone. It still just doesn't seem real sometimes. As a non-religious person, you often hear people preaching that everything is part of "His plan." That's fine to believe that but I've still had no one explain to me what this divine plan is that involved taking my friend. If there's a reason for it, I'd love for someone to clue me in.

I try not to feel guilty anymore about our friendship. I wasn't always the best friend. He wasn't either. We both had our issues with one another that often had us go weeks or months without exchanging so much as an e-mail - nothing serious, just differences in personalities. But when we did get together, it always felt like just another day. At any given moment, you could expect a phone call with "an extra ticket" to some show - it seemed like Danny always had an extra ticket for something. In fact, the last conversation we had before he got sick involved him trying to get me to go see Pearl Jam with him and ditch out on the tickets I already had with someone else - that sounds mean, I know, but to his friends, it would almost be expected. It's just the way he was - one of those little personality quirks that put us on opposite pages at times.

I often wonder how people who have lost several friends early in their lives manage to wrap their heads around it. I find one to be overwhelming and can't imagine it when people tell me how they've lost several.

I said it once before on this blog that it's the little things that make me think of him and get angry "for him." I can still remember our friend Phil's bachelor party and Danny and I being geeky sitting outside a strip club discussing the Harry Potter book that had just come out. When the final book came out, I felt resentful that Danny would never get the chance to know how the story ended. It's the little things like when I saw Pearl Jam in '06 - just a few months after he died and I got teary-eyed during their set knowing how much he would have loved to be there. Danny was my fellow geek in comicdom - so I sit here loving this summer of comic book movies with a tinge of sadness because I can imagine just how much he would have loved Iron Man and the Dark Knight - not to mention how excited he would have been about the Star Wars movie coming out this week.

I guess over time that kind of thing fades but for now, I treasure it. I love getting e-mails about all the latest Star Wars collectibles coming out and smiling, thinking about how Danny would have immediately ordered it. I can still remember so vividly getting the text message from him that he was in the hospital sick with leukemia. Our first conversation after that had him obsessing about how he was going to miss Comic-Con and he needed someone to pick up his pre-ordered crap there. I was in shock that he was sick and stunned that that was the first thing on his mind. But again, that was just the way he was.

I still have trouble processing how it happened. He was in such good spirits when I last saw him in the hospital. He seemed like he was getting out of the hospital soon - his family certainly seemed to think so. He was so excited about the Star Wars convention coming to Los Angeles in '07. He was wanting to plan a poker night right away. And he kept laughing at me because with the "germ mask" (what the hell is that thing called?) on my face, he said I was breathing like Darth Vader and I kept fogging up my glasses. I was so surprised to hear he had taken a turn for the worse and words can't do justice the way I felt days later - although I imagine my blog posts over that period might shine a little light on it.

So many things have happened that he had to miss. Brian's wedding. My wedding. So many little get-togethers that he would have loved. I guess our circle of friends is somehow closer now - maybe it takes something like that to make that happen. It shouldn't - but sometimes I guess it does.

I'm rambling, I know. But this time, I think you'll excuse me for it.

One last thing...

I'm fairly sure I said this before on this blog but it's worth saying again. That last visit in the hospital had one moment that I doubt will ever leave my mind. Memories fade and all that jazz but I think this one'll stick. It was during a bit of a lull in the conversation when he said out of nowhere - "I hope if nothing else what I'm going through really makes you guys live your lives." I didn't think much of it at the time but I've thought a lot about it since then. I've often wondered if he knew he was in worse shape than he was letting on - it seems like such an odd thing for him to say. Danny was never one for that kind of talk but in this case, he was right. It's far too easy in this world to let life pass you by because you always think you'll have tomorrow.

But for some of us, tomorrow never comes.

Kind of a downer way to end this, I know, so let's pick a different finish.

Wherever you are, buddy, I hope you somehow know that we're trying - we're all trying to live up to what you hoped we'd learn.

And we still miss you, old friend.