Heavy

Away on holiday in the Midwest, I still am thinking about those silly yearbooks. I promise this is the last post on the topic (for a while, at least.)

Amid the promises and love professed in cheap ink between those covers, one good friend wrote, "You've helped me through some very tough times in my life. I love you."

It means a lot that I helped shepherd him through his emotional love affair and other issues, but here's the thing: that friend is now dead. 

Could I have prevented his death?

We matriculated together, and maintained a casual friendship for years, but when his life's path veered away, I let it. In our twenties, I sort of dropped off the face of the earth. I knew thing were difficult, though I had no idea how difficult. I knew he was coping with pain in unhealthy ways, but I just kept moving. I should have slowed down. I should have showed up on his doorstep unannounced. I should have intervened. 

Sure, I helped him though high school, but that's hardly enough. Perhaps he would be alive if I'd been a better "friend forever." 

And that is a very heavy thought.