by Samantha S. Daviss
Normally my thoughts come to me in a blink. Occasionally, I get writer’s block. But not this time. This time I have had a huge hole in my heart. This time I lost one of my best friends. This time I just didn’t have the words at all.
This time my heart was void, my soul was void, my mind was void. And every time I sat down to write I started to cry. In fact, I am crying right now. But it’s been two months since you left us, and I owe you this my friend. I owe you the words that I have been wanting to write for sixty days. I owe you the tears that we have all shed, the shock that we have all endured every single day that you have been gone as we all struggle to move through life on a “normal” daily basis. But you know, looking down on us all that it will never be normal again without you here.
Your presence is missed every single day. Your joy and laughter and goofy sense of humor was a constant in all our lives. You were taken from us all too soon. I know you are there. I feel your presence every single day.
In fact, our little family left just four days on a family vacation and headed to Hawaii for Spring Break after the world said good bye to you. As we were walking down a footpath of the resort a gentleman was walking behind me wearing a Kansas Chiefs jersey and I broke down crying. I am pretty sure he thought I was a raving lunatic and he overtly stepped out of the way and walked up on the grassy knoll to avoid me; and I of course humiliated my teenage son with my antics. And then of course I looked out across the water to regain my composure towards the resort’s lagoon area and noticed the roped off area was guarded by red and yellow floaties (the color of the Chiefs) so again I lost it.
At that moment I knew you were there. I knew you would always be there with us. You were the big brother to me when I needed one; you were my best friend; our secret handshake; and the keeper of some rather crass stories.
I miss your silly giggle, I miss driving by Mertz tennis courts and seeing your left-handed serve, but most of all I just miss you my friend. Gone too soon but never forgotten. Your tribe, your family, and your friends will be here for your little man. Your accomplishments make us proud. You make us proud.
Just please know that just because it took me so long to write this doesn’t mean I don’t love you, it just means that it took me this long to find the courage to confront my keyboard. Everyday, every activity, every thought you’re in it my friend. But I know you are looking down on us all and laughing at us all and all the goofy decisions we all make daily. We will see you in August at Nobu my friend. Love you always.
