Tribute to a Friend; I stole your sweatpants and I'm not sorry.

This is a diversion from my usual blogging, but a dear friend of mine who has inspired and pushed me has passed away earlier this year. Even though it's been a few months, it all seems so raw. And tonight, finally, I seem to have been able to spill out some words. I wish to do nothing but honor and cherish his memory...

I try again and again to write about him. Our story is too unique and powerful to lay outside the realm of words. But every time the words start to come out, it is only a trite couple of lines that do nothing but show the emptiness of my words. Again, this is as far as I get before I stop, knowing my words from here on out are going to be shallow reflections of a life that can only be appreciated by those that lived in the vibrancy of his life. But I feel as if I must go on. It’s been building inside for so long.

Let’s start at the beginning, and the beginning is not pretty. Even as it brings a smile to my mouth, I can say with confidence that we hated each other. He knew it all; I knew more. He took authority; I had authority. And from his point of view? He knew it all; I needed his help. He had authority; I tried to have more. And it’s here that I start that weird, laughing/crying section that dissolves into bittersweet recollections. We could never figure out what spurred our dislike of each other into the best of friendship. There were many discussions of what could have been that trigger- what in the world turned us from enemies into a team. We never had an answer.

But that friendship…oh, I wish I could say he got as much out of it as I did. But this is one of those things where I know that I came out ahead. Scottie had an undeniable belief in me that I would be every bit as amazing and successful as I dreamed to be. There are a lot of friends that profess belief, but Scottie actually believed. It’s only now that I see how rare he was.

There is a larger part to this story. One I’m hesitant to share. I don’t know why; my closest guess is that what I’m about to share is the largest part of Scottie’s heart, and I hold it very dear to my heart. To share it is to share Scottie. And to share Scottie is to say he’s gone. I know each person that Scottie touched has felt his touch in their lives, but I must say, I am very jealous of Scottie’s part in my life. Please, do not take this part of Scottie’s life with anything less than the utmost respect. I can’t bear to see him lessened in any way.

Scottie saved my most important relationship. More importantly, he saved a vital part of myself. There was a night soon after I thought everyone I truly loved had abandoned me, and he picked me up from soccer practice, bought us a hot and ready pizza, and talked to me in that parking lot long into the night. I was bitter, angry, and sad, and I don’t remember the specific words he told me, but I do remember that that was the night I tried not to hate. I tried to be the better, stronger person all because of him.

I also stole a pair of his sweatpants that night. I never gave them back, and for a long time felt rather guilty. But now…now I couldn’t be happier about being a thief. Now I can wrap myself into him, just as he and his lessons have wrapped themselves around my heart.