The Last Ride

The hardest thing that I’ve never had to do was say good bye to my best friend. I never wanted to. I never did that so I would never have to. It’s been 13 years and his passing still breaks my heart. I still talk to him while riding to and from work. I used to dream about him quite frequently up until 2011. The last dream of him that I can remember he told me that he couldn’t keep coming much longer. Shortly thereafter the dreams happened less and less. It went from weekly meetings on the bus to just sitting on a bench catching up with what had been going on in my life. I still remember when I received that call. It was from my mother. She asked if I was home alone. I said no. She asked me to sit down. I stepped out of the kitchen asking why and sat on the bottom step of the stairs. She said, “Erica, O.J is gone.” Gone where? My brain questioned, my heart raced. Gone where? Everything stopped. I just remember numbness and emptiness. I’m teary eyed now. How can the one person that knew so much about me be gone? Why? He was so young? I won’t go into details. I can’t… it makes things too real. He had such a light about him, why him, why now? Then there was anger. Why did he continue to pursue truck driving… tankers of all things? I told him that I didn’t like it but I knew he loved it. He had made it, he accomplished his goal and so I was happy for him but not on that day. Part of me left that day. Fight or flight. I remember pulling over every time that I saw a semi or a tanker. I would pullover and cry. I no longer wanted to drive. I never rode with him. I had never saw him drive a rig. Last week I was thinking all the years of us knowing one another, I knew his favorite football team, I knew his favorite color, I knew his favorite shows and characters but I couldn’t remember his favorite food. Again, my heart broke. It’s hard. Time doesn’t heal anything. The pain is the same. The closure will never come. Sometimes I daydream about it all being a mix up and that he’s still out there. He’s just lost. Whenever I hear someone say that they lost their best- friend I stop whatever I am doing and pray for them. I know that feeling and I’m honest with my words to them. Grief is a journey. Give in, give up or get up. Part of me pushed myself to accomplish everything that I had set out to pursue. I felt I needed to. To keep that part of him alive within me I had to.