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Grief
over friend teaches life lesson
Tamiko
Panzella
This
summer I had to do one of the hardest
things a person our age can do. I had
to say goodbye to a loving heart and
an infectious smile. I had to bury a
friend. I have always been an advocate
of living life without regrets; however,
this is almost impossible when facing
death. With so many “would’ve,
could’ve, should’ves,” how
can we help but wonder, “What if?”
During my freshman year of high school, I made an instant friend. Little did
I know the huge impact this would have on me years later. He was friendly and
easygoing, and could always make me laugh.
Although
we shared some good times, I transferred
schools the next year and we lost touch.
It was a few months
ago that we were reunited through MySpace.
Our friendship picked back up effortlessly. I looked through his pictures,
recognizing that same mischievous grin. When he was “hella bored at work,” we
often chatted online and planned to get together, but it never seemed to work
out. I would not have kept putting it off it I had known I would never get
another chance. Sometimes we just don’t know what we have until it’s
gone.
Along with death comes a flood of missed opportunities. We regret not having
been better friends, not making an effort to see them one last time. Even
when we haven’t seen someone for years, the bonds of a strong friendship can
make us feel like we never parted.
The time and space between us does nothing to lessen the blow; instead,
it adds to the guilt we feel for not being there. This is how I felt upon
hearing
about the death of my friend. After meeting some people just once, they put
you so at ease that you feel as if you have known them your whole life. Clearly
this was the case with my friend, as was made evident when over 200 people
attended his funeral.
Despite the grief, or maybe because of it, funerals provide us with a chance
to connect with people that no other setting allows. We check our egos and
our baggage at the door, for we are there for only two purposes. To remember
a lost loved one and to help each other get through the tough time. When
we share this connection, we are given a chance to redeem all those opportunities.
We are reminded of the value of our friends, family, and sometimes, people
we barely even know. A newfound appreciation for our friends serves as a
silver
lining to the tragedy.
Death brings about endless questions. “Did he know how much he meant
to me?” “Do the other people in my life know how much I love them?” The
only way to answer these questions is to act upon them by reaching out to the
people we love. After all, what is life worth if we don’t have friends
with whom to share the ride?
What made my friend’s death especially tragic is that he was so young.
At only 21 years old, his life was just beginning to take off. His musical
talent and knack for working on cars promised great success in his future.
He had big plans, and had the skills and the drive to go along with them. A
life cut so short, and so suddenly, inevitably causes us to reevaluate our
own lives, and changes our perspectives.
We are forced to admit the risky behaviors in which we so often engage
do have consequences, sometimes permanent ones. We may think we are invincible,
but
when a young person dies, it serves as a huge wake-up call for the rest of
us. It is made more difficult to come to grips with death when an innocent
life is taken. A simple case of the wrong place at the wrong time can bring
about irreversible consequences. Why is it that some people can make so many
mistakes and come away from them without a scratch, while others do no wrong,
but must pay the ultimate price?
We can go our whole lives without ever coming close to a satisfactory answer.
So, instead of endlessly pondering the universe, why don’t we put our
time to better use? Instead of zoning out on the computer, or watching the
umpteenth season of “The Bachelor,” use the time to call up an
old friend, or sit down and have a conversation with a parent or grandparent.
This way, you truly will be able to live your life without regret.
Tamiko Panzella is a second-year journalism major. |
