My saddest December
It was my 2nd day home for leave after my 1st deployment; I was wearing my ACU’s and Black beret, as was the standard Army uniform back then. I decided to go for a walk and enjoy some of the scenery that I had grown up in and missed dearly, such as the beautiful emerald fields of grass, freshly plowed fields of corn, rows of cows and farmers yelling inaudible things at them, and the wide array of beautiful flora and other wild fauna running about in the windy, over casted day. I had my mind set on going to Dennys since one of my best friends Jake worked there, and I was friends with a majority of the staff and I wanted to surprise them. I wasn’t even sure if Jake would even be there or not; Regardless, I didn’t want to be at my parents’ house, I HAD to move around, I HAD to go somewhere, I HAD to try and pick up the pieces that had become my memory of what “home” was supposed to be. The walk from my parent’s house is only about 6 miles to town, which wasn’t much for me since I had spent the last 11 months working out, prison style in Iraq at COP Scorpion. The walk was scenic but uneventful, except for a nice lady offering me a ride, which I respectfully declined.
I passed by jakes house, which is located directly adjacent from our old high school and consider stopping by, but remember that him and the rest of the Marchi clan are notoriously late sleepers and/or at work this time of day so I just continue my trek towards Dennys. Nostalgia kicks in as I pass my old high school, accompanied with memories of all the times that Jake, my other good friend Aaron and I would sneak away like prisoners from a supermax to go smoke pot at his house or take off for the day and go catch a movie or just fuck around instead of being at school (as I struggle with basic grammar or math and trying to remember who the 20th president was, I almost regret ditching class).
The walk also reminds me of the 1st time Eric spent the night at my house, I think we were about 12 or something prepubescent; he vomited chocolate milk literally all over our kitchen sink, for no apparent reason at all. One second we are giggling at something random and the next, BLLLLLLAAAAAAHHHHHHHH. His mother shortly came to pick him up thereafter. Another one of my best memories of him was of how tough he was for such a little guy. We always had unsupervised bonfires at my house and I remember putting a random tube of thick, black PVC into the fire and laughing at how awesome it was that it was on fire and all of a sudden it dripped molten Polyvinyl chloride onto his arm. He screamed loudly but shook it off shortly like it was nothing. Not something most men I know now could do, it was always an inside joke between us about why he had a HUGE burn scar on his arm thereafter.
I decide to take the long way which involves me passing by all the local business like fitness pro, Ace hardware, Holy ravioli and all the usual fast food joints. Last I could recall at this point, Eric’s mother worked there with him and I hadn’t really talked to ANYONE back home about the fact that my best friend had committed suicide. I still don’t know why, nor do I ever care to discover the reason. The way I actually discovered his unfortunate end was a message over Myspace from another good friend basically saying that my family thought it was best not to tell me what was going on since I was in Iraq at the time but he didn’t care and told me the details the best he could, despite his extreme illiteracy. So, that is the way that I found out my best friend had died, an illiterately written Myspace message saying that he had taken his own life. For a long time I blamed myself, Eric and I had been two peas in a pod since the first time we hung out after school in 7th grade, inseparable, as some would describe. “I should have seen the signs, if was home I could have saved him, this never would have happened if I was there for him….” And the depressing list of self-blame goes on and on and on…
After a while I just came to terms with Eric’s death and accepted the fact that no matter how much I blamed myself, it just wasn’t my fault. Ha, as much as I tell myself that, I will always still feel a pang of guilt at the fact that he is gone, and as his best friend I should have been there when he needed me, even if I was literally on the other side of the planet.
Anyways….. Dennys and taco bell share a large football field shaped parking lot so I had to pass Tbell on my way there, which is where I saw the Grey, old and familiar Geo that Eric’s mother drove. And there in it, she was getting out, on her way to work. We see each other from about 10 yards away…no words are exchanged as we hug; both of us instantly crying, both knowing what the other was thinking and feeling. I can’t recall exactly what we said to each other there in that parking lot, only the feeling of hugging his crying mother and me at a loss of words to console her. Here I am, BIG ARMY MAN, BACK FROM IRAQ AND I CAN’T EVEN THINK OF WHAT TO SAY TO HIS BEST FRIENDS MOTHER. I do remember telling her that I am sorry, and that I miss Eric more than anything. I still don’t know if I was the one holding her or if she was the one holding me that cold, windy Galt morning. She lost her youngest child, and I lost my best friend and brother, I like to think that fate brought us together that morning for what reason I am still at a loss of words for. Rest in peace old friend, I will always love and miss you. 
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