Losing a Best Friend

Jamie was only a sophomore, and I was a senior, when we met through friends in high school. He was such an adorable kid, always smiling and acting goofy. Since he couldn't yet drive to school (only juniors and seniors could park on campus), I used to give him rides home after class. We never got that close before I graduated, but any time I hung out with him, he brought such a smile to my face and could make me laugh 'til my belly ached.

After I graduated, I would still run into Jamie at a local car wash where he worked. He had that same toothy, beautiful grin, and always treated me to complimentary car washes. And then one day, he just disappeared. I missed seeing his smile and our chats at the car wash, but figured he may have moved on to bigger and better things.

Fast forward to 2003, and I had graduated college and moved back to my hometown to work. I was living with my parents at the time, and I had developed a small addiction to Internet chat rooms. Thank God I did!

One afternoon while chatting, I came across a screen-name that looked interesting to me. I opened the person's profile, and lo and behold were photos of my high school friend, Jamie!

It turned out he had enlisted in the U.S. Marines and had served in Iraq. He was then back in California at 29 Palms, and he told me he was excited to be getting out soon and returning to our hometown. I couldn't believe it. He wanted to get together for lunch as soon as he got back.

He came to pick me up at work one afternoon for our lunch. It was just like old times: the same electric smile, the same goofy jokes and playful teasing. It was great to have found him again.

We quickly became great friends. I don't think I will ever know why such a bond was forged between us. We definitely went through our rough patches. He had a few habits I didn't particularly care for, and we went through a period of living together that turned out just horribly. In fact, we didn't speak for about three months after he moved out.

But it was the little things Jamie did that made him such a special person. He'd be the first one to hug me and let me cry on his shoulder after a nasty breakup. One year, when he was working a graveyard shift for a security company, he came to my apartment after his shift to make me birthday breakfast. One evening, when my dad bought a brand new wide-screen TV to celebrate his retirement, Jamie offered not only to pick up the TV in his truck, but he also brought it into the house and set it up for my parents.

He was there for me when my grandma died; I was there for him when he lost his mother on Christmas Day to breast cancer. He was a constant in my life. Even when we went for a month or two without talking, I still considered him a best friend.

Since 2006, he'd been living in another city, about three hours away, due to a great job. He got a promotion over the summer and called to tell me all about it. He was on his way to our hometown to visit family, and he wanted to know if we could hang out while he was here. I had a family trip planned that weekend, as well, and nearly told him I was tired and too busy to see him.

I distinctly recall thinking to myself, "Well, I don't really know the next time I'll get a chance to see him." And so I agreed to hang out. I have never been more thankful for anything.

Exactly one week after I saw Jamie, my parents received an odd phone call from a woman asking for "a relative of Kelly Russ." My parents, concerned something had happened to me, called my cell phone and gave me the number of the person who called. I called, thinking it had to be something about a credit card or some other kind of solicitation. But it had been Jamie's grandmother. I talked to his Uncle Mike, who told me that Jamie had been in a car accident overnight, and he died.

I'm no stranger to death or dying: I've had several grandparents pass away, and a couple friends in high school. I've watched countless pets euthanized due to age or illness. But not since my grandfather's passing when I was about 8 had anyone died to whom I was so close. The news that he died hit me with the force of a freight train in my stomach. I had been having lunch at a TGI Friday's, and I didn't bother to finish it. I don't remember if I even paid my bill.

Jamie was supposed to be the friend I could count on; the friend who would never abandon me. He was a Marine, a big, strong guy who appeared to many as invincible. But now he is gone. He's no more invincible than you or I.

It's been a little more than a month since Jamie died. I still grieve for the things I miss so much. I don't know how to let go of him, and I know that there isn't anyone who could take his place in my life. The only solace is that I believe he is now with his mother in Heaven, and that I will see them both again some day.

I can also be thankful for the lesson this taught me, and though it's cliche, you really don't ever know which day is your last. Cherish the time you get with the ones you love. I believe God's hand was involved in Jamie and I's last experience hanging out together as friends. Don't ever turn down the opportunity to spend time with your loved ones. You never know where either of you will be the next day.