Giveth, Taketh

A significant event happened in my life Wednesday night - the birth of my nephew. It was something we had been looking forward to for longer than nine months and I know, without a hint of doubt, that he has great parents looking out for him. His mother is my sister and, even though we are too manly to say it out loud, my brother-in-law is just as much family to me than my own blood.

When I got the picture on my phone, I felt my cheeks widen as I gave the biggest smile I've given in a long time. I actually have an uncle named Matt who, even as I am on the verge of 25, I immensely look up to. My goal is to live up to his name and do whatever I can to pursue that even though states currently separate my nephew and I.

But it's fitting that my nephew was born around two days before an anniversary in my life. An anniversary I don't "celebrate" but rather remember.

December 2, 2001 was a Sunday. I can remember little details from ten years ago because it was a day that would forever change my life. It was a day that, at 14, I would have to figure out how to deal with the loss of a friend.

I met Connie when I was in middle school. We struck up a friendship that admittedly spawned out of affection on my end. She was a year older than me and when she left for high school we didn't see each other as much, but we stayed in contact.

Honestly, so much time has passed that I forgot how we went from acquaintances to friends but I do know that she knew I liked her as more. She didn't return the feeling, giving me an "I don't date guys younger than me" vibe. It was something that to this day I thought was a challenge but never pursued intently because her friendship mattered more.

I used to look for her when I attended my friend's soccer games and when a group of us would go to the bowling alley. We used to chat on MSN messenger and her words were always sincere with me. If one thing was true about the two of us, it was that we cared about one another.

Eventually, one of my good friends Andy would become basically a member of my household. He was also previously a friend of Connie's and the three of us struck a friendship trio of sorts.

It was clear that he was starting to develop feelings for her so any kind that I had that weren't previously suppressed at earlier attempts became finalized. But Connie and I would still have our chats and checkups. One Monday, I was in my room getting ready to watch wrestling. I told Connie this during our phone conversation, one in which she had called to just check on me. Our talks had weaned in recent days and she decided to pick up the phone and see how I was. It was a gesture I will never forget because it was the last time I would hear her voice.

The next weekend, Andy I got the news. Connie was in an accident involving four people and she was one of the two that didn't make it. The car was being driven by a driver who was under the influence and they lost control and ran off the road. Connie was ejected out of the passenger seat and lost her life instantly.

When we got the news, we just left my house and walked. We walked down the street and to the park and back, he and I not saying a word. The only sound you heard was our feet on the pavement and attempts at keeping tears in our eyes.

My dad and I are much closer now than we are then, but I don't think he knew how to react when he drove me to her funeral service. And if he didn't know what to say in the car, there were definitely no words to comfort me as I saw my friend for the last time. Only, it wasn't really her. I will never get over how doll-like she looked as they had to do some touchups following her accident.

But she was laid to rest in her pajamas and at least she left this world giving us a smile. I'm not big into signs or acts of nature, but I remember vividly a single gust of wind as her casket was lowered down in the cemetery. Noteworthy because it was a hot Alabama day in December and there was no wind to cool us down.

I walked by her casket and silently whispered "bye babe" to her; it was something I said to her whenever we would finish our chats and I thought it would be the perfect way to say goodbye one last time.

A few months ago, June of this year to be exact, I was eating at Hooters in Dothan, a city near where my friends and I grew up. There was a particularly ditzy waitress who was at times amusing and annoying. But something felt familiar about her and it wasn't until a friend I was with pointed out that we all went to the same high school. Then the "Shannon" on her name tag had a last name and I realized - she was the driver of the car the night Connie was killed.

I didn't know how to react - I had just been chatting it up with the person who is responsible for the death of one of my best friends. Ultimately, I tried to put on a happy face and finish the time with my friends. I gave her the benefit of the doubt that she had enough hardship on her own having to deal with the consequences of her actions.

But now, today, I realize that all these feelings stem around something that happened 10 years ago. On a weekend when my major focus was securing a relationship with a girl who I was crushing on. Then my week turned into a mix of tears and memories.

Now, the memories remain. And on the day where I mourn the loss of a friend, I simultaneously look forward to celebrating the arrival of my nephew later this month.

I love them both. And I will work just as hard to be an uncle to my nephew as I will to never forget Connie in my life.