Lost
Yesterday, I went for a jog. I'd started earlier this year, going two or three times a week. In the past week and a half, I've been going almost every day. There is a decent jogging path that runs near my apartment, with a small park nearby. I usually go for most of the path, then veer off into the park. Yesterday, I got about half a mile into it when the rain started. I got soaked to the bone, trying to make it back to my apartment. A little rain doesn't bother me, but we didn't just have a little rain yesterday. I trudged through the rain back to my apartment, threw my clothes in the dryer and sat down at my computer.
At some point, during that time, my friend Phil Clippinger lost control of his car, hit a tree, and died. He was dying while I was caught in the rain, or maybe as I was drying off.
I cannot measure the loss that I feel.
I will never again hear him talk excitedly about something I don't care about.
I feel numb.
He was one of my oldest, dearest friends.
I met him for the first time while I was still in high school, while he was in his first year at UGA. I tell people that I know many of the friends that I have due to Andrew Stallings. He was a year ahead of me, and went to UGA, where he became a first-class asshole. He did so immediately. I blamed the friends he'd made in Athens, and I went there around Thanksgiving break so that I could meet and tell off the people who'd changed him so much. I quickly learned that his new friends weren't the problem. Shortly after, he dropped off the face of the planet, never to be seen again (at least by me). But the people that I met that weekend still remain some of my good friends.
Phil was the first person I met in Athens, and I spent more time hanging out with him over those first three days I was there than I did with Andrew. Phil encouraged me to come back and hang out. I might not even have so many of the friends I do if it weren't for him.
And now he's gone forever.
At some point, during that time, my friend Phil Clippinger lost control of his car, hit a tree, and died. He was dying while I was caught in the rain, or maybe as I was drying off.
I cannot measure the loss that I feel.
I will never again hear him talk excitedly about something I don't care about.
I feel numb.
He was one of my oldest, dearest friends.
I met him for the first time while I was still in high school, while he was in his first year at UGA. I tell people that I know many of the friends that I have due to Andrew Stallings. He was a year ahead of me, and went to UGA, where he became a first-class asshole. He did so immediately. I blamed the friends he'd made in Athens, and I went there around Thanksgiving break so that I could meet and tell off the people who'd changed him so much. I quickly learned that his new friends weren't the problem. Shortly after, he dropped off the face of the planet, never to be seen again (at least by me). But the people that I met that weekend still remain some of my good friends.
Phil was the first person I met in Athens, and I spent more time hanging out with him over those first three days I was there than I did with Andrew. Phil encouraged me to come back and hang out. I might not even have so many of the friends I do if it weren't for him.
And now he's gone forever.