Afterimage
Suddenly the fox was gone from all the lives he left his mark upon...
Chester was always a good friend of mine so it hit me like me a thunderbolt when I heard the awful news. Chester Rohan, fallen at the age 31, as the result of injuries sustained in a car accident. We had been friends since the both of us were cubs, attended the same school, served as best men at each other's weddings, and drank together at the same bars. And now, all of a sudden and before either one of us could have said goodbye, he was gone, just like that. My first reaction was to deny it as I'm certain anyone who has ever lost a loved one will do, to think they misheard it and that it was some other unfortunate soul who passed away but there he was in the paper, his name matching the muzzle it belonged to. He's gone, except in memory.
I remember how we would talk about politics, the weather, whatever came to mind on long summer nights, drinking cheap beer and eating chicken wings. And we would keep talking and drinking and generally enjoying life until the sun rose up the next morning. It was a rare friendship we enjoyed Chester and I, the kind of friendship that starts in youth, and lasts to the grave, which sadly in this case was much shorter than the both of us had imagined. We might have both been young and yet I can still remember the shouts of joy and happiness we shared as we played on the water during a hot summer day- the shouts which reflected in my own children can only remind me of Chester and pierce my soul every time I hear them. My own youth is being replayed in the lives of my children, but with my childhood friend gone, it just will never be complete any more. He was a friend who was closer to me than any natural littermate and now his death leaves a hole in my heart- in everyone's heart that just cannot be filled.
And when I see the things he had done in life, woodworking, crafts (the fox had magic paws to create all kinds of art) over by his house, I am overwhelmed by the beauty of it all- and the frightening fact that there was much that he was going to do before that fateful car ride. I sat with his wife in the parlor as she mourned and wept her husband's death, I also did much the same with his poor children who are also stricken with grief. Truly he was a great fox, one whose life should be emulated for its innocence, its kindness, and its resourcefulness. But I know full well how nothing, no amount of tears, no amount of kind words can ever raise the dead and so he is gone from us forever. Chester was a very nice fox and it goes without seeing that he died before his time. I tried to believe that he wasn't really gone, that this was just a nightmare that I would wake up from. I would wake up and call him and he would be alright but this is the reality.
Since denial was getting me nowhere in this grieving, I must now accept the facts that he is gone, irreplaceably gone, and my anger at the drunkard who sped at over 80 miles per hour and T-boned his car pales in comparison to the incredible sense of loss that I feel. One moment, Chester Rohan was a bright and happy fox, the next moment he's strapped motionless to a gurney, his wife watching his electrocardiogram turn from its usual peaks and valleys to a straight line, indicating that he had gone asystole and there was no longer hope of reviving him. And if there was anything we could have done to have him avoid that fate we would have but what good does that do for us now? Why did it have to happen this way? There are some things that will never be understood this side of heaven and I can accept that. But for what it's worth, I wish it could have been me instead. This just can't be understood.
Chester is now gone, the fox will be interred into the earth next Monday at Our Lady of Perpetual Grace but after given some time to think about this disastrous turn of events, I now realize what my friendship with the fox meant- in our years as friends I picked up so much from him. I learned most of all, the enjoyment of life itself- there can be no greater blessing than a good friend who you can share secrets with, who actually shows compassion, who is fun to hang around with. And that's what Chester was to all the people who knew him- a likable guy, a devoted husband to his wife, a caring father to his cubs, friend to all fortunate enough to meet him and a pillar to the community. There is no doubt in my mind this fox will be missed, if for no other reason than the lust for life he showed on a daily basis.
And all because of the foolishness of someone who had a few too many to drink, we will forever be denied the opportunity to talk with him again- so many words left unsaid, so many things I wanted to know about him. The world will not know of Chester's truly brilliant mind and wonderful artwork because he was claimed so young and in such utter tragedy. This is a disaster for his family, me, and everyone else who knew him. If only, there would be a way to undo this... but, there is no going back, Chester died and he'll never come back.
But as I surveyed the mahogany coffin which will become his new home for eternity, at least for his body (yes, I know how morbid that statement sounds), I felt this strong voice inside of me saying to go on live the way he would. It's almost eerie as the funeral home employees embalmed him- I feel as though his spirit is still there with me- the same red blur in the white sweater who went on a ski trip with me a few years ago in Vail, the same kind soul who set me up with my wife (and later, I returned the favor), the same fox who happily and joyously got into the car which sadly, would be the ride into eternity. I felt his presence and the memories came flowing back to me. And- and, I feel the way he once was. And maybe that, is the closure I need for this tragedy.