Last night I had a dream about Ducky. Those who know me know that Ducky was one of my very close friends for about twelve years. I'm not surprised she was in my dreams; I've been thinking about her and her family every single day since June 1st.
June is the month for birthdays, both among my family and my friends. Aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, sister-in-laws, friends, my daughter and myself all share this month to celebrate our arrival on earth. But the last day of June, there is a birthday that I begin to think of the moment the calendar changes from May. It belongs to Ducky's brother, Scott.
Scott was, to me, a pretty special individual. I used to tell him he was like the younger brother I never had. And I treated him like a younger brother. I look back at our friendship and realize that most of it was me lecturing him and trying to get him to make changes to his life. He took it all in stride, and didn't change a thing until he was ready. I thought he was moving too slow, and I wanted him to go and be and do and learn and...and...and.
He was going to come and visit me in August of 2010. I remember that he called me on July 29th, and I didn't answer. I was slightly cross with him, because he wanted to fly to an airport that would require me to drive through 2 hours of traffic one way just to get to him, not to mention the traffic coming back. It would have been cheaper for him, but there was an airport ten minutes from my house and I couldn't understand why he wouldn't just fly in to that one. I didn't feel like having the conversation about it. I have no idea why. In retrospect, what a petty thing to be upset about.
I didn't know it then, but that phone call was my last chance to speak with him. On August 1st, he was killed in a car accident.
It was after his death that I came to realize that Scott was one of the few individuals who took me exactly as I was, self-important lecturing and all, and loved me anyway. He never tried to change a thing about me. The loss of him in my life has been immeasurable. I think about him almost every day. His name is tattooed in a cross on my arm, a celtic cross because that's one of the tattoos he wanted. I grieved with his family, knowing that as deeply as I felt his loss that is was not comparable to his flesh and blood.
Two years after his death, I experienced a loss of a different kind; it was the death of my friendship with Ducky.
Ducky and I had been through so much together, that I thought we had a completely unshakeable foundation. We'd known each other since we were sixteen. We had seen each other through countless ups and downs, twists and turns, joy and pain, happiness and unfathomable sadness. She was closer to me than a sister. I could not imagine my life without her.
Until one day, I could.
Just what happened, I won't say. But while Scott's death was completely out of my control, losing Ducky as a friend was entirely up to me. It weighs on me sometimes, despite how "right" I felt I was being, because losing her friendship meant losing her family, whom I also dearly, dearly loved.
And so on the eve of Scott's birthday, I think of how often I take people for granted. It never once occurred to me that Scott wouldn't be around, just as it never occurred to me that Ducky and I wouldn't make it for the long haul.
I don't always treat people close to me with as much appreciation as I truly feel toward them. I want to learn to love others with more purpose, and be grateful for the time I have with the ones God has put in my life.
Because life changes too fast not to.
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