Death of a Memory

This past Wednesday morning I was reading through the paper, and I stopped to read the obituaries, as I normally do. Call it a morbid obsession, but I read them every day as part of my daily paper-reading. Anyway, I spotted the name of a childhood pal and thought, "no, that can't be the same guy." Sure enough, it was. It didn't say how he died, only that he'd passed away in the hospital on Tuesday.

Donnie was 25 days older than me, and we were in every class together from kindergarten on up through 6th grade. We grew up together, lived just a couple blocks from each other, and were constant buddies. Kids will be kids, of course, and we were teased for being friends (nyah, nyah, ... sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S....blah blah blah), but of all the friendships that came and went throughout the school years, ours was one of the few that endured and remained constant. We did hook up on and off during junior high, but it was more a matter of convenience than actual attraction. We were just really good friends.

So high school came around, and I went off to my hoity-toity private school, and then I moved to a different town, and I lost track of most of my old friends. I tried looking Donnie up a few times after I moved back here three years ago, but never really got around to calling him. It was more a "hey I wonder what ever became of him" sort of thing than a real desire to rekindle the friendship.

The wake was yesterday. I went. The waxy, pasty embalming process notwithstanding, he looked exactly as I'd remembered him from 20 years ago, only with shorter hair and a fuller beard. I stopped at the casket, said "Hey Donnie" and signed the guestbook before mustering the courage to go talk to his brother. Apparently Donnie had had quite a drinking problem and basically died of cirrhosis. At 35 years old, his liver just couldn't take it anymore and shut down. Fucked up.

The weird part was how I was like, "oh wow, that's sad and it sucks" but in a sort of "disconnect" mode while I was at the funeral home...and then halfway home I just burst into tears over it. As I shed my tears, I realized I wasn't necessarily crying for him, per se, because it's not like my life is affected directly by his absence in it. It was like it suddenly hit me that this kid I grew up with, was good friends with, played with, fought with, laughed with, partied with, and I'm sure talked about our futures during all of this...it's all gone for him. And he was just so goddamned young. I keep moaning and groaning about how I'm "so old" but man, it's not time to die yet.

Rest in Peace, Donnie Roehling: 1971-2006. Don't give Miss Sinnot too much trouble up there, okay?