My phone was ringing, and I searched for it half awake, with my eyes closed, patting the area on the ground where I believed my purse to be. The buzzing continued. I slowly opened them and my world was flooded with the early morning daylight that crept in through my friend's apartment windows. Most of San Francisco was still asleep, and as my phone buzzed and buzzed I wanted nothing more than to rejoin the dreaming city.
I finally retrieved it from some where in the deep dark depths of my purse. It's an old friend's phone number, who I don't talk to too often since moving away from home. She was my best friend all through high school, bit I've been living up North for the last two years and well, you know how it goes.
I click the green answer button. "Hello." I push the words out quietly, as the rest of the people in the room are still asleep and we had a late night.
"Allie, Jantz was hit by a car. Last night. There was a fucking horrible accident and he was killed."
It's been a little over two years since I got that phone call, and recently I've been thinking about Christopher Jantz more than ever. He was my closest guy friend for years, and was there for me through thick and thin.
I met him through random circumstances and fell in love with the person he was. He was sweet, he was fun, and he was a good friend to me. A great friend. He had that laugh where you knew it was coming from deep down within. When he would find something funny he would just go and go, and not only was it contagious, but at times it made me think he was crazy. I take that back, I didn't think he was crazy, I knew it. He had this passion for adventure and excitement that couldn't be subdued. He was always looking for more, always pushing boundaries, and living his life in a way where everyday was just, fun. He was a beautiful person, with a wonderful soul and smile.
After about 5 years of being really close, we started to grow apart, and by the time I moved to Santa Cruz, our friendship was more distant than ever. I still saw him around when I came home, but we were never again the way we used to be.
When I heard the news of his death, I was shocked, but for some reason it was as if it didn't sink it. As if I was too far away for it to be true. Regrettably, I couldn't attend the funeral, which is, among many things, a public event where grieving is displayed by the people in his life. I never witnessed that nor was I a part of it, which may have also been a reason it was hard to grasp.
This Spring I've thought about him more than I have in the few years leading up to his death, and the few years following.
It recently hit me that I lost someone in my life, who I used to love and care about so much, and he's gone and I will never have the opportunity to mend a relationship, or explain what he meant to me.
I know death is a part of life, but it's something I still have been unable to come to terms with. It's not fair to lose someone you love, especially so early in life.