I did something odd today. Something that might seem, on the surface, to be morbidly self-serving: I imagined what all of my friends and family would say if I suddenly wasn’t here anymore.

Last week, a friend of mine died. He died doing what he loved, though I doubt he woke up that morning and expected it would be his last. While there are others who were better, closer friends of his, he and I shared an understanding: that life is best seen without crap-stained goggles. He was the kind of friend who made a point of coming over for a hug when we were in the same square mile. And I’m all about the hugs. It’s one of the things I’m great at. He was a kind soul, a bright spirit and someone who went out and busted his satchel achieving his goals and dreams.

In the course of going through all of the condolences on his social networking page (I’m not advertising unless I’m paid for it…or, you know, really REALLY like something), I wondered what people would say about me after I was gone. It was a terribly selfish thought, but I’m guessing one that’s not all that uncommon when someone you know dies. Hey, you eat or go all Hulk on your living room to cope; I go all Wednesday Addams.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My WTL (Will To Live) batteries are overflowing with juice. If you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you something about me: I plan on living forever. There’s simply too much to see and do in this world to limit myself to one measly lifetime. Plus, there’s many shenanigans to act out and share here. I simply wondered if I’ve made enough of an impression on the people who know me to elicit the same kind of warm remembrances I have, and have seen, regarding my friend.

You always hear that someone who has passed away wouldn’t want you mourning them, that they would want you to celebrate them. And that’s likely true…mainly because nobody likes moping crybabies, especially when they’re all tall and adult-y. But EVERYONE loves a party. Everyone who isn’t a sociopath. I think there is a little part of all of us, however, that wants at least one person to cry a bit in private over us when we go. And don’t move on too fast either, or my ghost will break all of your valuable glass and ceramic items.

Aside from the grief-seasoned messages of loss and pain, the things that were said about my friend were exactly what I remembered. This guy knew how to live and love and share his light with the world. And that’s part of his legacy. I guess I just don’t want my entire legacy (you know, when I go off-grid to protect my immortality) to be sarcasm, farts and The Lazy. Hopefully, others see more in me than that.

Having a friend die suddenly makes you think, if you’re the thinking type. It makes you take a look at your own social interactions with an eye towards making the right kind of impression. Oh sure, all of those anonymous people who never see or hear me ranting about their horrible driving habits (while I ignore those same habits in myself) won’t remember me fondly, but at least the people I’ve taken the time to interact with on some more meaningful level might smile a time or two thinking of me and my quirks. One can hope.

I guess the point of this is two-fold: I miss my friend but remember him fondly, and it’s important to make a good impression on the world around you. Share the best parts of you, and it will be worth it…even beyond your time here.

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2 Comments on “Somberrific”

  1. Meg Says:

    Well I would cry a lot if you were gone, miss you fondly and hope that where ever you went to, they had a deep appreciation for warped and twisted. πŸ™‚

    And Im so very sorry that your friend is gone. 😦

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