Losing a Friend

My childhood actually flashed before my eyes. The good and the bad. One of the best parts was Brian. Brian was my neighbor from across the street and three houses down. We, thank goodness, lived in a time where we felt free to play outdoors without fear of harm. We lived up trees, on our bikes, or in my small back yard playhouse. Hide and seek was usually on the menu, and as we grew older, skateboarding and riding our bikes even further than before. This was a big deal back then as our elementary school was withing biking distance, and our “coliseum” as well.  We would do everything together like go trick or treating or basically just exist without even talking.

And as far as talking goes, Brian and I shared our speech impediments together as well. We both stuttered. Our club of two knew no bullying, no shame, and all laughs. We even had speech therapy together at our elementary school as well. Our parents were comfortable with us running around as my parents would feed him or his parents would feed and look out for me. We had friends in common, as they lived on our block or in our small neighborhood as well.  He was, I suppose upon looking back, a safe, security blanket for me. It was easy and without struggle to be around him, and I am so grateful for all of those memories.

I will not discuss his end, but I wish his lovely wife and family could have visited everyday. I know family and loved ones give strength to ill patients. And I cannot imagine the struggle to have to stay away from loved ones in the hospital.

I just write this in memoriam of my Brian, for he is, and will always be loved by everyone that knew him. I thank his wife for existing, to put it mildly. She is a hero in my book.

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