Death is a many Splendored Thing.

I found out that someone died. 

And this is very strange…I hadn’t thought of this person in literally 20 years. But, in a bizarre way, most of the man I am today is because of Her.  She was…in that way that everyone you know in High School becomes the benchmark for everyone else you meet in life…the most beautiful person I’ve ever actually touched; and my first real LOVE. And you know the love I mean: obsessive high school infatuation.  The stuff that makes you spend hours carving Her name inside a heart on a tree in the woods. The stuff that makes you jog by someone’s house….hoping She’ll come out.  I was in 10^th grade. She was a junior.  I was an unpopular band geek, She was a homecoming nomine and a former cheerleader and the top of Ware Co. High’s A-list.  And for whatever reason, for about 2 months in the spring She decided that She liked me. So I got to sit next to Her in Algebra, eat lunch at the cool table and even got a ride home one day…followed by an awkward, sweaty (my sweat), tight close-mouthed kiss.  Didn’t matter, as far as my 15 year old heart was concerned, I’d found my soul mate. My true love.  I saw marriage, kids, our mansion in LA when I became a rock star…the works.

Lot’s of “where do I stand??” phone calls and some really heartfelt notes later, the interest waned.  One day, She didn’t wait for me for lunch and that was it.  We never really spoke again.  I still got to sit next to Her in algebra for the rest of the quarter but it was done.  For Her. For me, of course, it was only beginning and I secretly plotted ways of getting Her to fall for me again. I’d coincidentally show up at places she frequented.  I even managed to convince my friend, Phil, to throw a party just so She could come and I could show up. She did…with her boyfriend  and the party ended up getting busted by the cops…another tale for another day.  My lowest point involved a plot to seize control of an assembly so I could perform Against All Odds to Her because nothing says true love like Phil Collins. I spent countless hours practicing that song…picking the precise point to drop to my knees and make eye contact(“TAKE A LOOK AT ME NOW!!!” you know the part I’m talking about!). She wouldn’t be able to take it and would stand up and try to leave. BUT THEEEEEERE’S JUST AN EMPTY SPACE…” And She’d turn…and when I collapsed, spent from all the emotion She’d run up and as I sang the last “take a look at me noooow…” She’d lift my head, we’d kiss in front of a standing ovation from the entire school.  That took me a solid year of planning to work out…strangely enough I didn’t figure out a way to actually hijack an assembly. Didn’t really matter I guess…

Her senior year, She graduated and was gone.  But somehow, I still thought that we would find a way to be together.  I carried that torch long into my senior year.  In fact, I never really found a girlfriend in High School (or college for that matter until Poodle…much longer story) because in my eyes they paled next to Her. She was the one that kept me motivated…kept me moving…not giving up on anything…because I was gonna SHOW Her.  Show her what She was missing…and thereby win her back!

Of course time is a fickle bitch and eventually I lost track of Her memory…somewhere in there it got replaced by the various other loves of my life along the road.  

Until that day.

When I found out that She died.  I got a quick sense memory thinking about Her. The smells of high school. Jean jackets. Perfume. Big Red Gum.  Her maroon mustang convertible that I got to ride in exactly once.  Turns out She had become a teacher, gotten married, had kids. Lived a great, fulfilling life without ever missing out on becoming a Rock Star wife.  Just as well since I kinda missed out on becoming a rock star.

I don’t know why I’m writing this.  I guess, in lieu of flowers I just wanted to do my part to keep Her alive. She’s now a part of history…a caveman’s drawing on the wall.  Because no matter what She was or became…She will always, at least to one gangly, pimply teen, be the first lesson of loss…of love.  And love never dies, right?

Rest in Peace, S.F.