Today was the 11th anniversary of my friend Jimmy's death. He was walking across a marked crosswalk when a drunk driver hit and killed him.
So much has happened in my life since then. I was 17 then, and I'm 28 now. Looking back to eleven years ago, I am an entirely different person. As much as I have grown over the years, if I allow myself to go back to that time, I'm raw and still very much there.
Life has gone on for me while Jimmy is frozen in time. It's a reality, and it's not something worth getting sad about because as much as I wish I could make it different... I can't. So I live my life, and from time to time, I remember Jimmy and smile.
I love cows. They are my favourite animal. Jimmy knew this. One day he called my house phone (cell phones weren't a thing like they are today), and when my dad passed me the phone, Jimmy excitedly said, "Beth! I'm at this garage sale, and I found a cow couch! Do you want it!?"
I said of course... and that evening, Jimmy and his step-dad delivered it to my house.
Three weeks later, Jimmy died.
As physically uncomfortable as that couch was and as cheaply made as it was, I held onto it for years after Jimmy's death, because it was a tangible item from him. It was a physical object that I could remember him by.
Eight years after Jimmy was gone, I told my dad we could finally get rid of the cow couch. We smashed it to pieces, and it broke my heart with every smash, but it was also so therapeutic. I needed to move on. Not forget, but let go. It was simply the destruction of a cow couch, but it was also an oddly beautiful send-off to a really great friend.
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| NFJS |
