Christine opened a trunk more than a year after moving. She found a yellow folder, full of things she had written as a high school and college student. If you are bored enough, feel free to pine away the next few moments as she shares the good ... and some of the really bad ... with you.
A little prose for ya'. For my Howard Payne buds out there, this was written about my favorite Jeff Horch in the whole wide world.
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by Christine Deadman
March 11, 1993
"She stood on the corner looking up into the sky. So, of course everyone who passed looked up also. But there was nothing to see, or so they thought."
I read that on a chalkboard. It was so random. Why did he write that? Then again, why did he write any of the things he wrote? It's not that I think his thoughts were stupid, because I don't. In fact, he always seemed to make me laugh. He always had something to say ... something funny.
I'm smothering my sorrow in double fudge chocolate ice cream. I'm depressed because I didn't get to see him before he left. Okay, so I DID see him, but it was in a large crowd. Someone in his family took a picture of us. It was the ultimate Kodak moment, but that doesn't really matter. I will never get to see him again.
I wasn't even able to talk to him. Well, I guess I did bump into him at the restaurant later and we talked, but only for a moment. You can't get dramatically personal in a public place. I smiled because I couldn't be sad. I wasn't able to hug him more than once, and I certainly wasn't able to say goodbye ... the way I wanted to.
I feel a little humiliated ... no, that's not the word. I don't know how I feel. I realize that it's not his fault for leaving without saying goodbye. We're just friends. He has hundreds of friends, and I am sure that he tried to say goodbye to all of them. I guess it's different when you're the one leaving. I guess he feels my small sadness multiplied by all of the other friends he is leaving. I guess he just didn't realize that we had not said goodbye. I'm sure that's it.
He was my funny friend. He made me smile. In fact, just thinking about him - some random bit of insanity - I can't stop smiling. Do you understand that feeling? It's like when you are so happy that you could cry, but you can't cry, so you just smile harder. I guess THAT is how I feel.
Everyone calls my friend Gooseboy. I actually have no idea where that nickname originated. I really don't think I would want to know. It was probably one of those late night private joke kind of things that is never funny again (except to those who were present). I can appreciate that. I think private jokes can be the essence of memories ... Gooseboy ... I like that.
Gooseboy has left to start a new life, somewhere else, probably far, far away. He told me that he would never be back to visit, and he probably won't. It was nothing personal - I know that. I once heard someone say, "This is a nice place to go to school, but you wouldn't want to live here." I think a lot of people feel that way.
So, I'm going to miss him. That's why I am slurping down a mass of dairy fat. I assume that I will feel better later. I'm sad. I'm very sad. But Gooseboy isn't the type of person that is ever sad. I've seen him mad and happy and confused and delirious, but never sad. That's why this is so hard.
How do you be sad about a person that you have never been sad WITH before? Is it supposed to feel this bizarre? Are you supposed to hurt or just smile and pretend it doesn't? I don't know how to act. I don't know what words are supposed to come out of my mouth. I don't know anything except that he's gone. I may never see him again. My sweet, funny, little Gooseboy friend is gone.
And I didn't know how to say goodbye.
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Just FYI: Gooseboy and I have stayed in touch. Even got to catch lunch a few years back when we were in the same city. He was at my wedding. I recently missed his. He's still the coolest Goose anywhere.
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