Kinship and Disappointment

Image credit: N.A.

Alex Davis died yesterday. It feels surreal. This is the first time that someone I felt close to has died. Yes, my dad died when I was 6, but I barely remember him. I remember Alex. I remember mowing lawns with him, jamming with him and my bros., and I remember how much fun we had. I also remember that even though he was a fun and happy guy, he had his share of heartaches and disappointments. I remember how he loved football, but suffered an injury that didn't allow him to play anymore. I remember that he loved a girl that he thought he could never be with. Those are tough things for anyone to deal with, and I remember that it was hard to remember that he was just a teenager because he seemed so mature for his age. He might be surprised to hear me say that.

Thinking about what I know about Alex's life, it made me look back on my life and the disappointments I faced. Growing up, my two biggest goals in life were to get married and go on a mission. Then I didn't get a chance to date the girl of my dreams who I was sure I was going to marry, and I didn't go on a mission because of problems I have with the Gospel and because I'm scared. It's been over a year since I've had a goal I've been working toward or wanted to work toward. I'm going to school, yes, but I constantly have doubts about the major I picked. As silly as this sounds, sometimes, after I read a great book or watch a great movie or TV episode, I feel like I was made to tell stories. Like my calling in life is to write stories that entertain and/or inspire people. But sometimes I look at all the books, movies, and TV shows that have been written, and I wonder if I could possibly add to it.

The thing is, writing is my gift. There are things that I'm bad at, things that I'm good at, but I honestly feel like writing is what I'm best at. All of today, I felt like the world should just stop because Alex died. I felt like everyone should care that he died because I care. I can't stop the world, and I can't make everyone care, but I can write a post to honor him.

There are many people that I like and love, but there are few people that I feel a kinship with. Like, a deep connection of unspoken understanding. It's hard to explain, but I felt that with Alex. I used to joke that me and Alex were practically the same person, which was silly considering the many ways we're different, but I think I just said that because I felt I could relate so well to Alex. I'm not sure what it was. I think it's been a year or two since I've spoken to him, just because we've just been off doing separate things, but I'm happy about the last time I saw Alex. It was such a simple thing. A week or two ago, I was driving through an intersection and passed Alex going the other way. We smiled and waved at each other. That was it. But just through that, I knew that we loved each other and were happy to see each other, and I felt that weird connection that I've always felt with him.

It's sad that Alex died. I feel sad for his family, especially his parents, and for his friends. I feel sad for my family because all of us loved him. But I'm glad we were friends, and I'm glad I know I get to see him again. Thinking of the inside jokes that we developed whilst landscaping, I hope I remember when I see him again to give him a manly forearm clasp and say, "Cement." And I hope that we'll both still laugh at that. I want to end by saying something that I hope someone says about me when I die: my life is better for having Alex in it.