Kiana

A few days ago, I got word of the death of a friend. It’s funny how the friend who relayed the news put it, she told me, through Messenger, that he “was already gone.” My initial reaction was to ask, “Where to? Will he ever come back?” But of course I knew deep inside that what she meant was death.

***

I have a lot of thoughts floating around, without a way to scribble them into a notebook—for fear of reducing their intensity. What’s surprising, though, is that these scattered thoughts line up when I call them to mind. As though my neurons, or those sparkly things inside the brain that run fast, have created a bulleted list and organized my scatterbrained musings into categories and subcategories.

(At this point I stopped writing because I couldn’t focus. My next-door neighbor, who is a mom, was scream-teaching her child for about 45 minutes. I could hear snippets of what she said, “OK! YOU KNOW WHAT GIVES US LIGHT AND ENERGY RIGHT??? THE SUN! THE MOON!” I still can’t get the shrill intensity and terror of this out of my mind. I silently tell the child “I’m sorry.”)

This clearheadedness seem to bayonet its way into my brain, and I’m still reeling from the blows. It was made manifest last week when I went to karaoke with people from my high school. I was surprised that I wasn’t reserved or mean, which I usually am, as a “self-defense” tactic. It’s a fresh spirit in me, like I’ve been baptized into the religion of the universe, and adopted by gods who dwell in the stars. It’s refreshing, strange, alchemical even.

***

When the fact of my friend’s death sank in, a few of my friends retreated to chat on Messenger. Most of us felt guilty for having overlooked our friend’s condition. Of course, we reassured ourselves by saying, “We didn’t know…who knew?” Of course, we kept asking questions that could only be answered if we’d cared enough to know. Of course, we had to keep asking even though we knew that there was no other way to come up with an answer. Of course, we couldn’t get our minds off how guilt ridden and ashamed we are. Of course, we blamed ourselves. What better recourse for guilt caused by carelessness than to seek closure and answers?

As I lay in the dark that night, I realized that seeking closure and answers for our friend’s death would free us of the pain and guilt that we were carrying. I fell asleep thinking, What a selfish and diabolic friend I am. ♦