Tonight I was driving home through a beautifully thick fog. It seemed to have everything in its grip. As I went down the road it slowly revealed a veiled landscape. Things were altered, like a disturbingly familiar dream. I felt like someone was with me, sitting in my passenger seat instead of my brown leather backpack. Without being conscious of it my thoughts turned to whispers and escaped my lips.
I was talking to my friend KC. My words started out as regrets. Regrets of his short life, regrets of our lost time together, and regrets of all that he would never do. As the mist formed on my face into miniature rivers I remembered the good times we had sitting on the trunk of my car and gazing at the stars. Talking about our hopes, fears and belief in the future. The words spilled out of me like shooting stars, filling the car with their blinding brilliance.
As I drove home tonight I had a conversation with a friend. My best friend who died, cut short of a physical life. But he was there, with me in my car. I felt him, he was thick like the fog and just as intangible. He was one of those people that you cannot forget. His smile was brilliant and his laugh was infectious. KC was like the sun. So bright and vivacious that you couldn't hold on to it for long. You were simply blessed to get whatever time you could with him. Like the sun he had his own rhythm and rules that we could not control. But like the sun KC is still there, even when we cannot see him.
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