My dearest Gabriel,
When I met you eight years ago, feeding the homeless at the Salvation Army, I was impressed by your knack for conversing with ease with almost anyone you met, including me. I know that you need only to take a quick glance around this room to truly understand the gamut of people that you touched (not literally of course). At any rate, you started the conversation, and as is bound to happen when two heads as hard as ours meet, that conversation never really ended because neither of us could ever concede a point. But I couldn’t be more glad that we never did because our silly debates gave me an excuse to get to know you better.
You had the most unique quality of being simultaneously a 6 year old and a 60 year old. You’re the only high schooler I’ve ever met went to bed promptly at 8 o’clock every night and who, if you couldn’t be flying, wanted nothing more than to sit around in a robe and slippers, smoking your pipe and reading literature. And yet, you had a childlike simplicity about you. You’re the only one I could count on to just sit down with some crayons and color like there was no tomorrow, or to play silly games like Bread and Butter when we walked down the street. You were so full of contradictions and quirks that being with you was at once comforting and familiar, and also wonderfully surprising.
Like your wardrobe, you were dependable; We could always count on you to be wearing a button-down collared shirt and slacks with black socks. We could always rely on you to answer the phone with a cheery “Yayhoyhoy!” and to finish the food from everyone’s plate before the end of every meal. Most of all, you could be depended on to be there for someone in need.
I believe that you experienced the world differently than most. You seemed untainted by conventions of all kinds, in a way that not only made you the very unique individual that we knew, but that also allowed you to see and reach out to others that most people wouldn’t notice. I remember when Kasey convinced you to go to Winter Formal senior year. In typical Gabriel fashion, you agreed to go to the dance so as to not hurt her feelings but you never said you’d agree to dance! Instead, you spent the entirety of the night striking up a conversation with the security guard in the corner, no doubt asking him about his gun. While I simply found this hilarious at the time, I can’t help now but think how much you improved that guy’s night. Wherever we went, you made friends with whoever we encountered, however unlikely. I valued your openness, your willingness to try new things, at least once anyway. In your twenty-one years, you did more than many people do in five times as long.
Since you’ve left me, I’ve experienced a dizzying array of emotions. Though most of the time this all feels so unreal, I must admit, that I have been a little angry with you. You’ve told me a million times that you always wanted to go out flying and it’s just like stubborn old you to get it your way. But I realize that I am just being selfish, something that when it really came down to it, you never were. You never were afraid of death and when I start to get angry or mad or upset over the fact that you were taken from me, it gives me the greatest peace to know that in your last moments, you were not afraid. To the last you were courageous and I am looking to you know to find the courage to make it through without you.
In the hours after your dad told me the news, Gabe 2 and I sat on the floor of my living room and while we did shed our tears, undoubtedly the dominant feature of our gathering was laughter. There were so many little things about you that cannot be replaced or imitated by anyone else, but I cannot help but to smile or laugh when I think of them. The same occurred when we went to visit your family. I don’t think I could ever have imagined such joy and laughter in a household so recently touched by tragedy. But that was your nature, you faced the hard truths of life without fear and you brought so much laughter and joy to us all that it is impossible for you to ever truly leave us.
This week I was supposed to coach a volleyball camp with some good friends. I didn’t know what to do. I really just wanted to be with people who were close to you. I felt bad about going on as if nothing had happened. But to my great surprise, it was there, when I was doing what I loved most, that I felt most strongly your distinct presence. In doing what you did best, pursuing your dreams and doing what you loved, I still have you in the most profound way I could imagine.
Gabe, though you are gone from this world, I feel your indelible presence in my hearts. As you once told me “I’ll miss you like MC Hammer misses the high life”. I know that this is not goodbye forever, it’s just goodbye for now. You were always the kind of friend that no matter how long we were apart, we’d fit back together again like there was hardly a day in between. So until then,
Lima Oscar Victor Echo forever and always yours,
Megan
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