Gomenasai
Some of you folks knew him as Jamesomeone. Some of you knew him by name. Some just in passing. Most of you have the misfortune of not knowing him at all. As of April 28, 2007, those of you who never had the opportunity missed your last chance to be blessed by knowing him.
My memories don't go back far enough to not include him. He was my friend for most of my life. He was the best man at my wedding. He was a brother to me. Now I am left holding onto emptiness and thinking of so many ways that I might have failed him.
He was always so impressed by the intelligence MC and I possessed. He would frequently comment on how much more intelligent I was. About how it sometimes took him a considerable amount of time to catch up to what we were talking about. Not wanting to be patronizing, I told him that he was right. I told him that the paperwork stated that MC and I were, in theory, more intelligent than 98% of the population, so he was in good company. Now I wonder if I should have lied and disagreed with him. I pointed out that methodically and at his own pace he always caught up. That he was the storehouse for tons of knowledge that I knew nothing about. That this helped us as a team, with his wealth of knowledge and my quick little brain, we accomplished all sorts of things. Apparently this wasn't enough.
He used to praise all sorts of accomplishments I had made. Things that I gave little credit to. Things he gave too much credit to. My ego would get in the way of beating him over the head with the obvious facts that belittled my accomplishments. A band we were both fans of sings parts of several songs on their english album in russian. I used to (and still do) listen to all of the russian versions of the songs more frequently. They just sound more natural that way. As such, we would ride around in his Saturn and I would sing along with the songs, and he would be amazed that I sang right along with the russian lyrics. It didn't matter to him that I could do so because I listened to the songs every day, and at parts was simply emulating the sound. It didn't matter to him that the translations of the songs were available on the internet. At one point he commented that it was cool that I knew all the words and I learned them from listening to the songs. It wasn't until a later conversation that I realized he thought I taught myself the language by repeatedly listening to the russian versions of the songs, forgetting that I actually had studied the language briefly, and all of the above reasons.
I couldn't break him of thinking that I was somehow better than him. That I was something to be looked up to. I couldn't get him to realize that he was so much better than I was. That he was someone I looked up to.
He was the one who always inspired me to be a better human being. His giving nature, his work for the community. His history as an Eagle Scout, habitat for humanity volunteer, volunteer fireman, and life guard at several different installations just amazed me. I couldn't see how one person could have that much to give. Even before friends and family were brought into the picture. Perhaps one person can't. Perhaps that is what happened.
There isn't a place I can go that isn't touched by a memory of him. He is in my MP3 player, since half of the songs on it were of bands I got him into or vice versa. He comes to mind when I am watching television, or listening to conversations on the bus. I can't go anywhere without the risk of this hole suddenly ripping itself open again.
I can't help but feel that I failed him. There had to have been something I could have done. Something I could have seen if I just paid a little more attention. I just stare at my hands and feel as empty as they are.
On April 28, 2007, he took the last train for the coast. Two days later a phone call brought to a screeching halt my life, or something close to it.
My memories don't go back far enough to not include him. He was my friend for most of my life. He was the best man at my wedding. He was a brother to me. Now I am left holding onto emptiness and thinking of so many ways that I might have failed him.
He was always so impressed by the intelligence MC and I possessed. He would frequently comment on how much more intelligent I was. About how it sometimes took him a considerable amount of time to catch up to what we were talking about. Not wanting to be patronizing, I told him that he was right. I told him that the paperwork stated that MC and I were, in theory, more intelligent than 98% of the population, so he was in good company. Now I wonder if I should have lied and disagreed with him. I pointed out that methodically and at his own pace he always caught up. That he was the storehouse for tons of knowledge that I knew nothing about. That this helped us as a team, with his wealth of knowledge and my quick little brain, we accomplished all sorts of things. Apparently this wasn't enough.
He used to praise all sorts of accomplishments I had made. Things that I gave little credit to. Things he gave too much credit to. My ego would get in the way of beating him over the head with the obvious facts that belittled my accomplishments. A band we were both fans of sings parts of several songs on their english album in russian. I used to (and still do) listen to all of the russian versions of the songs more frequently. They just sound more natural that way. As such, we would ride around in his Saturn and I would sing along with the songs, and he would be amazed that I sang right along with the russian lyrics. It didn't matter to him that I could do so because I listened to the songs every day, and at parts was simply emulating the sound. It didn't matter to him that the translations of the songs were available on the internet. At one point he commented that it was cool that I knew all the words and I learned them from listening to the songs. It wasn't until a later conversation that I realized he thought I taught myself the language by repeatedly listening to the russian versions of the songs, forgetting that I actually had studied the language briefly, and all of the above reasons.
I couldn't break him of thinking that I was somehow better than him. That I was something to be looked up to. I couldn't get him to realize that he was so much better than I was. That he was someone I looked up to.
He was the one who always inspired me to be a better human being. His giving nature, his work for the community. His history as an Eagle Scout, habitat for humanity volunteer, volunteer fireman, and life guard at several different installations just amazed me. I couldn't see how one person could have that much to give. Even before friends and family were brought into the picture. Perhaps one person can't. Perhaps that is what happened.
There isn't a place I can go that isn't touched by a memory of him. He is in my MP3 player, since half of the songs on it were of bands I got him into or vice versa. He comes to mind when I am watching television, or listening to conversations on the bus. I can't go anywhere without the risk of this hole suddenly ripping itself open again.
I can't help but feel that I failed him. There had to have been something I could have done. Something I could have seen if I just paid a little more attention. I just stare at my hands and feel as empty as they are.
On April 28, 2007, he took the last train for the coast. Two days later a phone call brought to a screeching halt my life, or something close to it.
Labels: emptiness, jamesomeone, loss
posted by Wanderer at 12:34 PM
9 comments
