this month marks three years since you were killed in afghanistan.
every october since i found out about your passing, back on october 15th 2012 while i was in uganda, i’ve taken the month to listen to green day and think about those easy days in carlisle, pennsylvania.
this year, in addition to the regular american idiot album rotation (you was the first boy to give me a cd, and in this case, it was the noted green day album, american idiot), i’ve also been listening to hamilton a lot. one song in particular.
this song makes me cry now. i think of you and what you would have done had you lived a longer life. what you would have done with more time. and if i will do enough with the time i have been allotted. i like to fantasize that if you had lived, i would have reached out at the end of your deployment, that i would have gotten the whole “white house crew” back together. but realistically that probably wouldn’t have happened. your death shook me. it propelled me to turn my head away from the army and look seriously towards somewhere else, anywhere else. it was your death that made me start researching psychology programs three and a half years before my commitment was up to the army.
i just know i need to make the most of the time i have here, for you, and for myself.
and as i’m wont to do, i took a look through some of my old journals. i also found some old aim conversations i printed off years ago and felt so much embarrassment for the diction and vocabulary of my ninth grade self. here’s my first journal entry of a new journal where i first wrote about you:
you can also see how i’ve always been a stage 9 clinger (sorry!)!
and here is baby me (at the end of the table) and you to my left. we’re both pirates at an excellently themed pirate party in 2004.
time is weird. death is also weird. we miss you.