Today I live the last moments of my life at the age that my
dear friend Jacob will eternally be. Being 22 connects me to him, and I release
that connection in mere hours. At midnight tonight, I will be of an age that he
never got to experience, and will never have the chance to do so. It pains me that my life moves on when his was cut so short. I battle this
internal conflict, not knowing whether to be sad that this day has finally
arrived or happy that I was blessed with this gift of time. Once I turn 23, I
will no longer have that small connection to him anymore, but I know that in
future years, as birthdays come and go, I will embrace my age. As others may
shy away from the years that age them, I shall happily welcome every single
one, knowing that I could have just as easily not survived to see that day. Not
a day has gone by since his tragic death seven months ago that I have not
thought about him. Every single day, he comes to me in my thoughts, and I miss
him dearly. I know that he will be with me as I grow and age, but he will
always be 22. I, fortunately, will not. I will grow up regardless of his
absence in this world, and it is so painful to come to that realization. When I
am 24 and accept my first job as a teacher, he will be 22. When I turn 30 and
give birth to my first daughter, he will be 22. When I am 50, and am able to
retire, he will be 22. When I am 77 and celebrating my 50th wedding
anniversary, he will be 22. And when I am 85, white-haired, and telling my
great grandchild about my high school best friend Jacob, and the laughs we shared and
fading memories I have of him, he will still be 22. Today I am 22. Tomorrow, he will still be 22.
