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Friendship

February 21st, 2013

“Friendship ... is not something you learn in school. But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you haven’t really learned anything.”
-Muhammed Ali

A few Februaries ago, an accident claimed a friend.  For several reasons, he was on my mind last night and I re-read a note I wrote to him after his death.  I read it occasionally as a reminder to be a good friend. 

In this day and age, good friends seem hard to come by.  If you have one, appreciate him/her and consider yourself fortunate. 

If you are a good friend, then I know you don’t lose sleep wondering if your actions went unnoticed nor do you need validation from anyone.  You understand that there is nothing more precious than unconditional love and unconditional support.  But because I’m positive that you don’t hear this enough - thank you, good friend, for being there no matter what.

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art ... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”
-C. S. Lewis

A NOTE TO JOEL

I lost a friend today. Although none of you knew him personally . . . you all know him.

He’s the guy who understands what no one else seems to get.

He’s the guy you look up to, idolize, try to be like.

He’s the guy you ask favors of because you know he really means it when he says he wants to help. You ask his advice on everything, because he has an answer for everything.

He’s the guy who calls you at 1:30 a.m. on Christmas Day just to tell you that he loves you and he’s glad to have you as a friend. When he hangs up, you wonder why you didn’t call him first.

He’s the guy you always tell yourself you’re gonna repay some day. But no matter how hard you try, there’s nothing you can do for him because he seems to have everything. He never asks for help; never seems to need help, even though deep down, you know he probably does. When you take a hard look, you realize you really don’t try that hard anyway.

To him friendship is unconditional. To him, it doesn’t matter who calls first. You realize this . . . after the fact, of course.

We all know this person. It hurts when he’s gone. It’s times like this that I hope and pray that there’s an afterlife so that someday, finally, I can let him know how much he meant to me, how much I learned from him, how much he influenced me, even though I lacked the capacity to actually be like him. I hope he hears me when I think about him, and when I tell stories about him. Since I didn’t tell him myself, that’s gonna have to do.

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