Derek passed away more than a year ago, from ostensibly natural causes.  AIDS may be natural, but I do not accept it as inexorable.

I have suffered through many emotional vicissitudes from this, but Michael’s recent post about the loss of a friend once again brought this to the forefront of my mind.

I do not know how to feel about this at all.  Better stated, I am unable to define how I feel with a single phrase.  I have been lost, I have been upset, I have been angry, I have been hurt, I have been lonely, and I have suffered a great many other emotions.  They all represent normal responses to such a personal loss.

I learned a lot from Derek.  I learned to wallow in silly childishness, especially with The Kids.  I learned that staunch Republicans could have a heart as we sat and cried watching the events unfolding on September 11, 2001, weeping for the tragedy taking shape before our very eyes.  I learned to forgive wholly.  I learned to give.

I learned that, much like my family, not all New Yorkers are rude and cold.  I have always taken personal offense when people describe our neighbors to the north with such stoicism and heartlessness.  I will not deny that these traits are present there.  I could certainly provide a disturbingly long list of my relatives who surpass the litmus test for such labels.  Despite this, I cannot deny my heritage nor forbear the knowledge that I find there greater kindness and brotherliness than is available in the bible belt.

I learned a great many other things from him.

You never expect anyone close to you to pass away, especially at so young an age.  Derek should have been longer for this world.  He was so full of energy, so vibrant and so alive, so fiercely intelligent and ferociously dedicated to living.  He expressed vitality in everything he did, and every breath was full of vigor.  He lived life; he enjoyed living.

No, it is not right.  I cannot imagine him gone.  That does not negate the truth of his absence.

I am not sure what it is that I should be feeling right now.  There are times when the memories are so real and immediate that I expect him to walk in the door or to call.  There are times when his absence is violently apparent.  It is not that I cannot stop thinking about him in obsession ad infinitum; it is that I miss him and our friendship, the good times upon which so many memories are founded.  The incredibly arbitrary nature of a world that would take such a young man for no reason offends me in some untargeted way.

His death put many things in perspective for me.  I know the value of real friends and the importance of sharing life with them.  I know that family should be given the opportunity to participate in our lives, especially when they have been excluded because we do not think they will accept us as we are.  I know living should come before planning.  I know the world is full of wonder and beauty, and that childlike enjoyment of it is not a bad thing.  I know that simple pleasures both carnal and intellectual can be equally satisfying.  I know that variety is truly the spice of life.

I know that most little things simply do not matter.  I know that there is too little time to spend it being angry or upset.  I know that always taking life seriously will expedite the end.  I know to laugh at the stupid seriousness of rumors, to ignore the hatred, to see at least two sides of every issue, and to bathe in opportunity.  All of the old drama seems so trivial now.

The very fact that his death has affected me so profoundly makes me a bit uneasy.  Like the loss of friends and family throughout my life, I know this is normal.  It seems now and again as if my sadness detracts from the true misery that his family has experienced.  Luckily, such feelings are fleeting and quickly forgotten.

Derek was truly a unique spirit and a remarkable person.  He was the kind of guy that everyone admired, that easily became the life of the party, and that enjoyed conversing with people.  He was witty and intelligent and sharply personable.  He defied social convention, was independent yet needed people, and he dismissed the politics of human interaction.  He learned over time how to weigh popular opinion with his own and to overlook the oh-so-rightfully unimportant.

Many wish they could be more like him, moving through life with zeal and passion.  All should learn from him the importance of living.  All should realize how critical it is to enjoy our all-too-brief stay on this earth.  All should find regret a disappointment unto itself, and how to force it out of our days.