Farewell to a Friend
Sometimes life takes turns that can only be described as unfair, leaving us shocked and saddened. Only a few others have impacted my life as much as Dez and I was hoping to say hello again this week, not goodbye forever. Andrew Desmond was killed with his girlfriend in a terrible motorcycle accident this Monday on their way home. My first real boyfriend, he saw my potential despite my highschool shyness, glasses and untameable hair. He believed in me when I wasn't sure whether to believe in myself and all these years later I'm glad for that gift.
I regret I didn't take more pictures of him. I always loved this one because it showed off his eyes. He had the sort of eyes that you could fall into, gaze into for hours. They were beautiful - blue and sparkling, incongrously angelic and mischievious. I still think of him every time I say "urf!". He had a quirky sense of humour and spoke a language of his own.
I used to watch him play hockey with his dad - a tangle of blond hair under a helmet. I named the tangle "Robert" and drove him nuts by occasionally asking Robert questions. I don't remember how we met. . . he just gradually appeared sometime in the corner of the school where I used to hang out and do my homework at lunch hour until I counted him a friend. He was the kid who brought in a filter when there was a solar eclipse and shared it with everyone. He asked me to dance 5 times at one school dance - I guess I should have guessed that he liked me. They were good days - the last year of highschool. We were a close-knit bunch drama groupies back when plaid and ripped jeans were high fashion and no one had email or msn. During Blind Revelations (A Sears Festival one-act play), I was the stage manager and Dez the assistant stage manager and somewhere along the line we ended up dating - such is high school drama. When I graduated and moved away to Thunder Bay, we gradually lost touch.
Farewell Andrew. I'm sorry I never got to hear you laugh again and more sorry that you won't have the chance to live out your life and dreams. Thank you for believing in me and seeing my strengths and for being my friend when I needed one most. I was always wary of saying the words "I love you" because saying them is like casting a spell and binding your soul forever to that person. Even though we've grown apart over the years and miles between us, I still love you and always will always keep a place for you in my heart. I hope that your path will continue on the other side - albeit with fewer bumps and turns. Journey safely with your good friend knowing that you'll both be missed.
Love,
Jenn
I regret I didn't take more pictures of him. I always loved this one because it showed off his eyes. He had the sort of eyes that you could fall into, gaze into for hours. They were beautiful - blue and sparkling, incongrously angelic and mischievious. I still think of him every time I say "urf!". He had a quirky sense of humour and spoke a language of his own.
I used to watch him play hockey with his dad - a tangle of blond hair under a helmet. I named the tangle "Robert" and drove him nuts by occasionally asking Robert questions. I don't remember how we met. . . he just gradually appeared sometime in the corner of the school where I used to hang out and do my homework at lunch hour until I counted him a friend. He was the kid who brought in a filter when there was a solar eclipse and shared it with everyone. He asked me to dance 5 times at one school dance - I guess I should have guessed that he liked me. They were good days - the last year of highschool. We were a close-knit bunch drama groupies back when plaid and ripped jeans were high fashion and no one had email or msn. During Blind Revelations (A Sears Festival one-act play), I was the stage manager and Dez the assistant stage manager and somewhere along the line we ended up dating - such is high school drama. When I graduated and moved away to Thunder Bay, we gradually lost touch.
Farewell Andrew. I'm sorry I never got to hear you laugh again and more sorry that you won't have the chance to live out your life and dreams. Thank you for believing in me and seeing my strengths and for being my friend when I needed one most. I was always wary of saying the words "I love you" because saying them is like casting a spell and binding your soul forever to that person. Even though we've grown apart over the years and miles between us, I still love you and always will always keep a place for you in my heart. I hope that your path will continue on the other side - albeit with fewer bumps and turns. Journey safely with your good friend knowing that you'll both be missed.
Love,
Jenn
2 Comments:
Jenn,
I'm so sorry. I remember you talking about him, and hearing Andrew Desmond stories.
M.
Hi Jenn,
I remember you from high school, which at this point in time, seems like such a century ago.
I heard the sad news of Andrew's death just over an hour ago, right before a dance class, and it didn't sink in until class started. I am sad to hear the news. I didn't know him too well but I did talk to him once in a while (I guess I'd call him a friend of a friend) but he was always nice to me, and had the most wicked grin, and yes, sparkling blue eyes. I myself ride a motorcycle and the news has hit me hard, hard, hard.
Take care Jenn. I wish you and Andrew's friends all the best.
Jessica
(neechee03@hotmail.com)
p.s. I have posted this image on my own journal. If you would rather I didn't, please let me know, and I will take it down.
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