In Memoriam
A year ago today, I lost a friend.
He was a good friend, but I too often took him for granted. I think a lot of people did. He was the sort who was simply always there, and it seemed he always would be.
I still have a hard time convincing my heart that he is truly gone.
John B. Marques, IV was not a perfect man. John was no saint. He had quite a temper; he and I were very alike in that. He could be stubborn and argumentative about the most inconsequential of things. But he had a generous heart, and never turned down anyone who truly needed help. He also had a great sense of fun; the sound of his laughter is one of my most vivid recollections of him.
To this day, I regret all the months we didn't talk to eachother after fighting over stupid, meaningless things. To this day, I am thankful that he and I were able to eventually reconcile our differences, and that we spent time with eachother regularly again. I am grateful for the time I had with him.
I wish I had someone or something to blame for taking John away. It's not fair for a stupid fluke accident to take away the life of someone who deserved so much more time. John was a careful motorcycle driver. He wasn't speeding. He was wearing his helmet. No one hit him. The road was damp, but not overly wet or icy. The day was only lightly overcast, with no heavy rain or thick fog to obscure his vision.
In this absence of any obvious risk or cause, he lost control, skidded over to the grassy shoulder, and flipped his bike on top of him. The whys or hows, we're not likely to ever know. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't seem right.
It's not FAIR, dammit. We never got to say goodbye.
I miss you, John. I'll never forget you.
He was a good friend, but I too often took him for granted. I think a lot of people did. He was the sort who was simply always there, and it seemed he always would be.
I still have a hard time convincing my heart that he is truly gone.
John B. Marques, IV was not a perfect man. John was no saint. He had quite a temper; he and I were very alike in that. He could be stubborn and argumentative about the most inconsequential of things. But he had a generous heart, and never turned down anyone who truly needed help. He also had a great sense of fun; the sound of his laughter is one of my most vivid recollections of him.
To this day, I regret all the months we didn't talk to eachother after fighting over stupid, meaningless things. To this day, I am thankful that he and I were able to eventually reconcile our differences, and that we spent time with eachother regularly again. I am grateful for the time I had with him.
I wish I had someone or something to blame for taking John away. It's not fair for a stupid fluke accident to take away the life of someone who deserved so much more time. John was a careful motorcycle driver. He wasn't speeding. He was wearing his helmet. No one hit him. The road was damp, but not overly wet or icy. The day was only lightly overcast, with no heavy rain or thick fog to obscure his vision.
In this absence of any obvious risk or cause, he lost control, skidded over to the grassy shoulder, and flipped his bike on top of him. The whys or hows, we're not likely to ever know. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't seem right.
It's not FAIR, dammit. We never got to say goodbye.
I miss you, John. I'll never forget you.