I wish this post was going to be about the Navy Bean, who is 10 months old today. But it isn't.
I wish this post was going to be about our house, which we close on, on Monday. But it isn't.
I wish this post was going to be about something uplifting and happy. But it isn't.
This post is about my friend, Christopher Roberts.
I met Christopher my sophomore year of high school. I transferred to a large public school halfway through the year from a very tiny private school (from 20 students to 2000). Christopher was one of the first people I met. He was in my English class. And we were freaks (pre-Goth). He was small, about the same size as me. We became friends immediately. Christopher was funny, smart, loyal and a very talented artist. Many people thought we were dating because we often held hands, cuddled and hugged, but we never dated (more on that later).
We went to the same college and hung out together for our first two years. We loved each other deeply, but when we tried to kiss, it was honestly like kissing a sibling. But we still held hands, cuddled and hugged. Weird, yes, but it felt natural to us. He made sure my boyfriends treated me with respect and I made sure his girlfriends really loved him.
But then, I got engaged to a horrible man and most of my friends didn't approve, including Christopher. Add to that the fact that we both moved at the same time (him out of state) and we lost track of each other. I looked for him often, on-line, but with a name like Christopher Roberts, I had no luck. I missed him immensely, intensely and dreamed of when we would meet again. I wanted to hear what he had been doing. I wanted him to meet my new husband and my daughter. I wanted to hug my friend again. I wanted to tell him how much I missed him and loved him. But I had a very bad feeling.
And I was right. I received a message on facebook from a mutual friend of ours (someone I had also looked for but failed to find). I knew the message wasn't good. Christopher was murdered in 2007, on father's day. His first father's day. It hurts so much to know that I will never be able to tell him how much I love him. I hurts that I won't get to see him hold his little girl. I won't get to witness how much he loves the mother of his baby. But most us all, it hurts that I don't know if he knew how much he meant to me. I think he probably did. Our friend looked me up because he knew I would want to know, but also because Christopher's mother asked him to find me. I hope he knew. I hope, in his last seconds, he knew and felt the love of all the people who have known and loved him. I hope he knew that we all thought he was a wonderful, loving, loyal, thoughtful, caring person. I hope he knew that would help take care of his daughter and share pictures and stories with her. I hope he knew that even though he was alone, he wasn't alone.
I hope he knew.