Charles

I'm sitting here on my couch in a daze. my contacts are sticking to my eyes and my body is so tired, but i just can't sleep right now. my head is throbbing- the kind of headache you get after you've cried really hard for a period of time. Yesterday i sat and wrote about how i was in a "funk," how i couldn't figure out how i was supposed to live my life...how i just felt this heaviness yesterday and i couldn't put my finger on what it was. i had no idea what was coming...
last night, a 5 minute phone call changed everything. i was told that my friend Charles, who was diagnosed with aplastic anemia last year, was not going to "make it." i didn't need more clarification, but i asked anyway- "you mean he's going to die..."
"Yes." and suddenly, nothing i worried about yesterday seemed to matter anymore.
7 months ago, he was at my rehearsal dinner and wedding, 2 months ago, he received a transplant and was doing fine. 2 weeks ago, i was told he was in ICU in a medically-induced coma to help him fight off an infection. his body started rejecting the treatments and things went from bad to worse. 24 hours ago, Charles was still alive in the sense that he was lying in a hospital bed, breathing only with the help of a machine. but that's not really living. and that's definitely not who Charles was. he wouldn't have wanted to go on that way, and his closest friends knew that. 7 hours ago, they decided to take him off of life support. his vital organs had already shut down. i drove around for a long time today- no where in particular. and all i could pray was that God would take him quickly. i wanted the waiting to be overe and i just wanted him to be okay again. so i waited for a phone call that i never in my life imagined i would have to wait for. 4 hours ago, i heard my phone ring but i just couldn't pick it up. i knew before i answered that he was gone. i still can't get my head around it. and my heart is gonna hurt for a while. someday soon, i hope, the tears will be replaced by smiles and laughter as i reflect on a friend that God gave me the privilege of knowing, even if it was for this short time. he was an amazing soul.
i wrote him a letter today because there were things i needed to say- things i wanted him to know. (i think he probably does). i thought i would share it anyway though...so here you go.



Dear Charles,

I just found out that they took you off life support. I didn’t go to the hospital this morning with Kara and Rebecca. I couldn’t do it. I’m picturing you in my mind the way you looked the last time I saw you- at our wedding. That’s how I’ll remember you- this ray of sunshine. Kara and Rebecca told me that they didn’t feel like they really saw you today- like it was someone else. I don’t think I could have seen you look like that- I didn’t want that to be the last time I saw you. But I do have some things I want to say- I’ve had all of these thoughts and memories swirling around in my head since Kara called me last night. You won’t ever read this letter, but somehow, I think you’ll know about it.
I want to thank you. For being such a good friend to me. Thank you for always smiling, always seeing life on the bright side, never letting me get down on myself. Thank you for making me laugh, and always at the times when I needed to the most. Thank you for being my Valentine in 2005 and for the wonderful dinner we had at Konsta’s (and for being my pseudo-date on so many other occasions). Thanks for always looking out for me- making sure that the guys I dated were treating me right. (Usually they weren’t and if that was the case, you were one of the first to say so.) And you were always emphatic and hilarious. (i.e. “KRISTIN, uh, no….!”) I loved that about you.
Avalon will always remind me of you. Baker’s Crust will always remind me of you. I loved how you would come and sit down with me and whoever I was with and eat with us if you weren’t too busy waiting tables. And I especially appreciated the cream cheese-raspberry brownies you gave me to take home. Battle of the Sexes will never be the same again. For the record, I still think it was unfair that you were on the guys’ team, seriously…. =) And I laugh every time I think of us sitting at Nacho Mama’s, drinking margaritas and playing “big booty.” Or how about the time you took me and Rebecca to Priscilla’s and got us penis lollipops? I was so embarrassed and you were insisting that I was being ridiculous. Good times.
I loved how you boosted my ego and how you never hesitated to tell me “Kristin, your ass looks great in those jeans.” I loved how you always called me to make sure you knew how to dress when we would go out- you could never be up-staged (and of course, we wouldn’t have let you). I loved how giddy we would get after splitting a bottle of wine- usually with Rebecca and Kara. You were always such a gentleman, always paying for my dinner and God only knows how many drinks you paid for over the years. Alcohol or no alcohol, you always spoke your mind. (Although the conversations over drinks were always the best). You meant what you said and you said what you meant. Good friends do that. You were a good friend.
I remember how you were trying to calm me down at my own wedding rehearsal- (which ended up being a disaster) and how you kept telling me to “relax, everything would be alright” in your usual cheery voice, and that I would be able to look back and laugh at it later. You were right- it is funny to me now. So it’s not surprising that you wouldn’t let anyone feel sorry for you while you were sick- you took what life handed you, rolled with the punches and kept on smiling. Ironically, you were the one trying to cheer us up. That’s the kind of person you are- the kind of friend you are.
I have a feeling if you were awake and coherent, you would be saying the same thing to us now, “relax, everything’s going to be alright- don’t cry, I’m ok.” We’ve been scared, but if you’ve been, you never let on. Maybe you did that for us- or maybe you really weren’t scared. I’ve been told that there’s nothing in this life to really fear. But last night, I was so scared for you. Even though I know you couldn’t feel anything and you weren’t aware of what was going on. I was scared for you to die. I couldn’t (and still can’t) quite get my mind around it. I think I’m scared for me to die or in the very least, I’m scared of how I’m going to die. But when I think back on it, I don’t think that was something you ever feared or worried about. You enjoyed life too much to get caught up in that. I loved that about you too.
Life is a gift. Friendship is a gift. Every day that we wake up- in good health or not- is a gift. I think maybe you grasped that better than most people I know. Even now, in your own way, you’re telling us to stop sitting here and feeling sad or sorry for ourselves and get out there and live. Because that’s what you’d be doing. For me, it’s deciding to stop worrying about things that are out of my control. To stop taking so much for granted. To quit saying, “I will, when….” To take risks. To tell Jake, my mom and dad, friends and family how much I love them. Every day. Maybe even to go ahead and buy those $200 jeans (because I’m worth it….and because you would have too!)
I don’t think I ever told you how much I loved you and how much your friendship meant to me. I don’t think I ever told you what a wonderful person you were- how grateful I feel to have been given the chance to know you and be your friend. Why is it that we always wait until times like these to speak what’s on our hearts? Probably because we all assume that we’ll wake up tomorrow to the same world. That 24 hours- let alone just one hour, one conversation, one minute- couldn’t turn our lives- as we know them- inside out. I know I could let myself feel guilty for not saying all of these things to you, but I know that’s not how you would want me to feel. If you were sitting here, I’d start to go into my spiel, and I can already hear you say, “Kristin, PLEASE….it’s ok, I know..” (Or something to that effect).
I really hope you do know, Charles. Know that you are loved, that you will always be missed, and that you’ll never fail- even now- to make me smile or laugh when I think back on all that we were able to share. I’m so grateful that God gave me the opportunity to know you and be your friend.
I’m waiting for Kara or Rebecca to call me anytime now and tell me that you’ve let go. And I’ll cry. (So you’ll just have to deal with it). I’ll cry for all those times I had the opportunity to tell you what a great person and friend you were, but didn’t. I’ll also cry because I know that you’re finally okay. You’re not sick anymore. You’re not a body lying in a hospital bed anymore. You’ll be the Charles that I see when I close my eyes and remember: the bright eyes and huge smile I see on so many pictures from the last few years. You’ll be home.
And I know I’ll see you again….it’ll be like old times, only better.

I love you,

Kristin