Over? Did You Say Over?

 At this point, I have lived most of my life without him, and yet Darren continues to be a force in my life. The realization that I have a son who is older than Darren was when he took that last drive in the mountains all those years ago reminds me to appreciate there but for the grace of god go I. Darren was the sacrificial lamb of my childhood, and even though it took decades for me to reckon with it, his passing was the mile marker that put me on the path to where I am now. Suggesting that Darren is the reason I am sober now makes sense to those looking in, but at the time it was not the way it was playing out.

I made three friends in college. Two of them when I was a freshman, and one a year later when I moved back to Boulder to pursue a life that teetered between academia and bacchanalia. It was, to paraphrase my patient, sainted mother "a learning experience." I could have learned so much more than I did, but the things that I was learning outside of classrooms were the things that stuck with me the most. Eventually I graduated from college, but not before learning the biggest lesson any twenty-something can: mortality. 

To see the curve of my life from this distance, way out in space, I can now easily reckon on the way things turned. What I lost back then helped me gain what I cherish most in this world now. That twenty-something son I brought up with all the stories of Darren, "god rest his soul," is better off having a solid understanding of the physics of youth. No one, not even the funniest person you ever knew, is safe from really bad decisions. 

Which is the point where Darren's life sets off an echo in mine. What if I had been less careful? What if I had been more assertive? Would I have been able to alter the events of that long ago autumn afternoon? It is the stuff of comic books. It is the stuff of dreams that feature my good friend from Oklahoma who never did earn his diploma. 

I did. 

My son did. 

All those brushes with death later, I can still look back to the tragedy of that day and recognize it as my first. Part of me hates to think that, had Darren lived, graduated, and moved away to some future I can only imagine, that we might have lost touch. By dying that day he cemented his place in my life forever. A pretty good trick and one that I am sure he still takes great satisfaction in wherever he may roam. I learned to cling a little more tenaciously to those I love. My friend Doctor Jones. My Best Man. And all those who have swirled into my life since. 

I feel a tad of chagrin when I think about how I continue to mourn the passing of those near and far from me, and how I often remind myself that I should be more mindful of their presence while they are here. But that's the trick, to paraphrase Joni Mitchell. You don't always know what you've got til it's gone. 

I knew. I know now. And I miss him every day, but especially when the leaves begin to turn and I remember when I got the call. Something bad has happened to Darren.