Lost but Never Gone

There are some things in this world that you never forget. Things that in one night will forever change the world as you knew it. For me it began with a dark night, a loud thump and then the startled silence.

The muted chaos and the sound of unfamiliar voices did not foretell of the events that would unfold over the next few days. Only time would do that.those

There are people you know all your life and never really know at all, and then there are the people you meet and in an instant time means nothing. So it was when I saw him for the first time on a crowded street. Even though I searched anxiously the next encounter did not happen for several days, but time was not on our side from the beginning. We tried changing it, buying and stealing time whenever we could but in the end there was no time left for us.

The simple act of crossing a street turned an instant into an eternity. A night that seemed to have no end. But in the end there was only a lingering memory.

It all began with a love of music. Music is the language that transcends all barriers especially language and age. That first meeting began over music and ended over ice cream and led to a search for a friend.

During the early weeks of my stay I had never strayed far from home except with a group for the theatre or a group event; so when I suddenly disappeared nearly every day for hours on end my colleagues began speculating as to the reason. I had found a companion, but not in the manner m colleagues had thought. A companion to share the music and talk. A friend without ties or strings. For the next three weeks seldom a day passed when we could not be found together somewhere in the city talking of music and making music on a street corner or in a metro tunnel.

Three days were left, but I would return for longer next time. Going home which was on the other side of town - a long journey - that became longer.

Ever the gentleman he escorted me home and as we watched and waited for the bus - the last leg of our journey.

Darkness fell upon the late cool summer evening. Suddenly there was a loud thump piercing the night. It took some startled moments for me to understand the even that had just occurred. My friend and companion was no longer standing there. A car who had yet to turn on his lights had hit my friend. Worse yet, he never stopped. As he lay on the ground I was racked with fear not knowing what lay ahead. It was a small comfort to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he lay upon the pavement.

Fear turned to panic as the reality of medical service in a backwards area hit me. I began to visibly shake with the uncertainty of what lie ahead.

Comfort came - albeit short lived - from an unsuspecting source; that of my friend himself. His name was Peter. He had regained consciousness and as we waited for help at the hospital he refused to lie still; instead he insisted on sitting up and putting his arms around me and his head on my shoulder. I could only stand there with him. Pete had sustained a head wound, there was a lot of blood and it ended up on both of us. In the end help arrived and I was forced leave him.

Once again at home one of our group's leaders deemed a cup of tea was in order to settle nerves and the like. But I could only stare at the cup sitting on the table in front of me. The contents in that teacup was not the honey coloured liquid normally associated with tea. It was RED - blood red!

My only reaction was to mumble, "this isn't funny." No one stopped to think about what had happened and strawberry tea.

A long fearful night was followed by an even longer few days. Moments of hope arose only to be dashed into tearful memories.

I never saw Peter again after the night in the hospital. Three days later after leaving the city and returning to my homeland four thousand miles away I learned that my musical companion had died never to share his music and knowledge with the world.

My night of fear became a nightmare seemingly without end. But once again it was Peter himself who brought calmness and peace back to my life. It was not a dream for I was wide awake and at work when his ghostly appearance came to me. It was not as I had seen him last but as he had been before. Without even saying a word his comfort came with the goodbye we had been denied on the way home late one summer evening those thousands of miles away. I never saw him again.

My life was changed but not in the way we had planned. He is no longer at my side but he is never gone and does not stray far from my thoughts.