Sorry I've been absent a few days. I knew that things were going to get hectic this week. I moved into a new apartment with my fiance, and we've been trying to get our stuff and new furniture in there to get set up. But on Tuesday, I got some terrible news while we were at IKEA.
I found out that a very old friend by the name of Tommy Grady had passed away that afternoon. He had been involved in an accident while riding his motorcycle. We kept in touch from time to time, and I had actually just seen him two weeks ago where he told me about his new purchase; that very same motorcycle.
Tommy and I had been friends for nearly 20 years now. Along with Craig Buschle and Kurt Olding, the four of us were put on the same baseball team in first grade. We all quickly became friends, and by extension, so did our families. It always seemed like all four of our dads were involved with coaching our teams, so when it came to picking teams each year, we all seemed to end up on the same team. Our families became so close that it became a monthly tradition that we go to one of the four of our houses. The adults would play party games or watch movies and yammer, while the kids would go and play. There were always video games, board games, Legos, and of course, sports.
We loved to run. We loved to play. Each person's house offered different opportunities to explore. Kurt's house had woods behind it. Tommy had a cul-de-sac for stick-ball. Craig had lots of kids in the neighborhood to play team games with. And none of my neighbors have fences, so we had plenty of room for hide and go seek. Plus, we were always playing make-believe. We couldn't help but let our minds imagine pretend adventures we could go on. Craig was always the leader. Kurt had the muscle. I was the problem-solver. And Tommy was, unsurprisingly, the daredevil. There was nothing Tommy wouldn't climb, run into, or jump off of.
We were always so different, but at the same time, always drawn together. I think from the ages of 5 to 12, there was nothing we looked forward to more than those Saturday nights once a month where we were all together. It was a simpler time. Unfortunately, in 6th grade, things got a little less tight. Tommy was by no means an unintelligent person. He just had a different way of learning than most, and the teachers at our grade school didn't have the right tools to help him. They recommended that Tommy repeat 6th grade. So instead of doing it all over again, his parents decided it was time to move him to public school, where he remained a grade behind us for the rest of our school career.
When we hit high school, it seemed the get-togethers were less frequent. We began to find that the things that used to bind us together were no longer there. We had different friends. We had different interests. Our lives were headed in different ways. So slowly, but amicably, we seemed to part ways. Our parents are all still friends. We get regular updates on what the others are doing. But with our busy lives, we've had difficulty staying in touch ourselves.
I had to hear of Tommy's passing from my mother. I had heard on the radio that there was a wreck on Glenway that afternoon, but could never have fathomed that anyone had died, or that the person that was gone was a long-time friend.
It's never fair when a person dies before they have a chance to experience all the best parts of life. It's worse when it's someone you know personally. Tommy always lived his life full-go. He never had any quit in him, and if you needed help, he'd be there for you, giving it all he had. It's going to be tough for a while to think about the fact that I'll never run into him at the gas station again or that any reunion we have will never be quite whole.
But I plan to live my life a little fuller from now on. Tommy would have wanted that. He always thought I was a little bit of a wet blanket, but I guess I had to do it to keep him in check. And he got me to do things I would have never done on my own. The four of us used to rub off on each other that way. We will miss Tommy and his gung-ho, give-it-everything-you-have style, but we will never, ever forget him.
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