The Beginning of the Year, the End of His Life

Imagine this. It’s a peaceful summer night. You are watching the sunset alone, watching its beautiful pink hues transform into the most mesmerizing shades of purple. Sitting on your blanket that feels more like a scruffy towel, in the soft sand right behind the swaying dunes. Every now and then, you check your phone. And there it is. A notification from the boy you have always pined over. This was me the summer going into sophomore year.

I tap on the message, and the words within it shocked me. “I’m coming to see you,” I read. My mind was going crazy. (Keep in mind, this boy and I had never talked over the phone before.) I jumped up, and like any sophomore girl, ran to the bathroom to apply makeup. I went for a natural look that night. This was the beginning of something twistedly beautiful.

Soon after that summer night, we became inseparable. (I realize it looks like I am trying to portray a movie-like image of love, but that is truly how I felt. All. Summer. Long.) Just to give you an idea, Brandon is the popular boy that makes the seemingly nameless feel special. He dreams of becoming a marine, and earning the respect that one receives for fighting for their country. He is the kind of person that will never turn down an opportunity to go mudding. He is a freak for Pop-Tarts and country music. This is the one that I fell in love with in a matter of a month. I could share an endless amount of stories about Brandon, but I’m afraid it would break my keyboard.

Taking advantage of his presence is one of my biggest regrets.

Now the not so pretty side of things, the hard left turn, the ending of us, of him. January 1, 2016. New Year’s Day. It is supposed to represent a new beginning, but it was Brandon’s end. I get a call from Brandon in the morning around 9AM. I roll out of bed and pick up my phone, expecting to hear his energized and excited voice saying, “Come outside. I’m taking you to breakfast.” But, all I heard was muffled crying, followed by a “Can I come say goodbye?” I knew what this meant, but I was so in denial that I convinced myself I was overreacting. Long story short, I met him at a nearby dock where I did not get many answers. I held his hand. I wiped his tears. I told him how much I loved him. Yet, he was silent with tears falling down his face. It was a calm cry, a tired cry. Within a few hours, it turned into a sob. This is when he pushed me out of his car and handed me a picture. He demanded that I leave right in that moment. In fear that I was making things worse, I said, “I love you,” and I left. That was the last time I ever saw Brandon.

Fast forward four days later to his funeral, where everybody says their goodbyes. I was exhausted from the four days of constant crying, constant reminders of my heartbreak. I saw his lifeless body laying in that casket and I swear I broke. It was the same body that would kiss me so gently and hold my hand so tight. I felt like my soul was escaping my body, descending into hell. I felt like I was going to pass out and throw up all at once. I felt like doing what he did. But, the only way these emotions came out was I trickling tears. I wanted him to wake up. I wanted some sort of miracle and bring my Brandon back to me. Others hugged me and comforted me but they didn’t know him like I did. With every hug, I would break again and again, wishing it was Brandon’s arms wrapped around me. Too many hugs from strangers, too many “I wish he was here,” too many “it will all be okay.” It was all too soon.

This is the story of Brandon and I. This is the brokenness that is continuing to be fixed in my life.

It is so important not to take advantage of people.