The Hot Pocket

This is a really strange blog for me to write. And in all honesty, I have no idea if I will ever publish this.[After consideration I feel that it is something I do want to be on the blog and I do apologize if anyone finds this too personal or an improper means to express myself but here it is]. I feel  strange being one of those people who utilizes a public forum to disclose my hurt and pain over the passing of a good friend of mine. I feel like my emotions about it are incredibly private. I can't decide if sharing this is something that is helpful for me and also honoring our friendship, or if it just a discounted way for me to talk about my hidden feelings. I will tell you this:  he taught me a lot. And as I write that, a huge lump comes into my throat as I am sure with any friend any of us have, there are special moments with that person that you know no one else can share, see, live, enjoy, savor, and remember like you can. Granted these personal memories make me happy. They are my memories with him, but it can be lonely sitting and dwelling in your own personal, isolated memories.

He was my senior prom date. It was a dramatic (high school dramatic) turn of events for us to end up at prom together. We didn't even go to the same high school, so it felt like such a big deal to bring him to my prom. I don't remember a whole lot about prom. I remember I didn't like how my hair was done. I loved my dress that my mom so graciously indulged me in driving all the way to Seattle to purchase and I felt incredibly beautiful. And then I remember him. I am pretty sure he was one of the only guys in an all white tux. I remember the photographer said his tux looked fantastic with my dress. He also dropped a piece of meat on my dress fresh out of fondu pot at dinner. Somehow you couldn't even tell.

That summer before I left for college I spent a lot of time "at the lake" (it was a man-made lake) watching him do his pro water skiing thing and patiently teaching me how to get better at my junior water skiing skills. There was a large event at the lake one afternoon and I had driven out to spend the day with him watching the competition. For some reason or another, it must have been around lunch time, he discovered that I had never eaten a hot pocket in my life. He was fairly appalled. Fate be true, he had a few in the freezer. And so sitting on the dock I bit into my first delicious, gooey, cheesey, delightful, cheese and ham hot pocket. It was bliss. Even more so as I was seriously dancing still and had gotten to the point where I watched everything that went into my mouth. I remember how he tossed it in front of me on a paper plate fresh out of the microwave, crossed his arms and looked at me as I took my first bite. If you knew him, you knew that he had these amazing blue eyes.

I miss him. And I cringe every time I have to scroll through the M's in my phone book as I don't think I  could ever delete his phone number. Grief is a nasty little emotion. It hides and then out of no where it jumps out and completely knocks you out of commission for an evening. The next day is carefully tucks itself away and you just hold on for the next wave of the surprise in missing someone. I just keep telling myself that there is reason as there was reason for the memories I made with him. My thoughts and prayers are with his family daily right now. Through the sadness I remind myself, that he had a whole lot of good times, and I am so lucky to have been a part of even a small fraction of those.