Where the fuck do I begin? That's the question I asked myself trying to write a eulogy for my best friend. Jim and I had been inseparable since we were just four years old. How could I sum up a lifetime in just a few minutes? It didn't seem right. Hell, didn't seem right Jim was gone. Some random ass hat with a gun decided I could no longer have a best friend. The one person I cared about in the entire world was gone in the blink of an eye. I would never again see his twinkling, blue eyes as he smiled at some crazy thought I had just blurted out. I would never again see his slightly cocky grin when he won whatever game we happen to be playing. What was I supposed to say? "He was a good guy. Kind to others." Everyone knew that, already.
Jim had walked through life with a peaceful grace, spreading kindness everywhere he went. His long, dark brown hair made people think hippy. His normal attire of heavily worn jeans and rock band t-shirts made people think rocker. His muscular, six-foot frame seemed to make people feel a little uneasy. Yet, his calm peaceful demeanor and his soft, deep, compassionate voice put people at ease. He was an artist, a musician, a poet, and a dreamer. They already knew all of that though. What could I possibly say, that wasn't going to be the same as what everyone else said?
There wasn't much Jim hadn't been an open book about. Maybe I should tell them the reason we had shared a house for over twenty years. Maybe I should finally admit to the world, I was madly in love with Jim my entire life. No, I couldn't do that. That was about me, not him. A eulogy should be about the person that died, not his love-sick best friend that so desperately wanted to be more. Jim didn't see anyone like that, especially me.
I had been sitting at our kitchen table for hours looking at the blank notebook page. I felt utterly alone in the world, and I didn't know how to move forward. Jim was the one that always showed me the way, and now he was gone. I walked into his bedroom and looked around. Everything was still in place like he would be coming back at any moment. I almost smiled when I saw his coat laying there across the back of his desk chair. I've always loved that coat, and he always forgot it. I picked it up and hugged it. God, it even smelled like him. I sat on the foot of his bed as the tears started to fall. He was really gone. The realization hit me all at once. He was never coming home. A light crinkling sound came from Jim's coat as I buried my face in it. Curious, I looked in the inside pocket and found a piece of paper.
Hey Joe,
So I'm dead. Cool! Always wanted to try that. Dry the tears, man. Take a deep breath, and get yourself under control. In my closet, there is a small silver box. Take it to our campsite. I'm sure you will understand once you get there.
Love,
Jim
I laughed as the tears flowed. That's just like Jim. Set up something in case he died randomly, just to get me moving again. I slipped on his coat and went to his closet. It took a little bit to find the small silver box as it was hidden behind his comic book collection. Now that I found the box, I wondered what was inside. I tried to open it, and it was sealed. Should I follow Jim's message, or should I get the hammer? I've always followed Jim's lead in the past, and I wasn't about to stop now.
It took about an hour to pack the camping gear into Jim's truck. Not long after that, I was headed out of the city. The drive to the campsite was a long one. Two hours there, and then a three-mile hike in the woods. After setting up a tent, and getting a fire going I took off Jim's coat for the first time since putting it on in his room. That little piece of him I could bring with me. The sun set as I was looking at the small silver box. What in the world could he have planned? I tried to open it again, but with no success. I could almost hear Jim's voice say, "Ignore the box and soak in nature." I looked around to make sure I really was imagining it. I was. Of course, I was. I watched Jim get shot, and his lifeless body fall into the river. I watched as the cops and EMTs worked to pull him out of the water. Jim was gone.
I passed out next to the fire, laying on the ground using Jim's coat as a pillow. I didn't even get into the tent. I simply could not find the energy to move. Felt like I would never get up again. My eyes snapped open after what seemed like a long while after passing out. Jim was right there, brushing hair out of my face. Just like he never left.
"Jim?" I asked softly as I was freaking out.
A soft peaceful smile spread across his face as he said softly, "You made it."
I replied, "I'm dreaming right? This has to be a dream."
He said gently, "Not a dream. I'm not dead. I wanted you to know, but you're the only one that can."
I reached out and touched his chest. He felt real, and I said, "No, this has to be a dream or something."
He brushed the back of his fingers down my cheek as he looked me in the eyes. He asked, "Does this feel like a dream?"
I whispered back, "Yes."
His smile grew as he leaned forward and gave me a soft peck on the lips.
When he pulled back, I said, "The real you would never kiss me."
He shrugged, "What's the point of dying if I can't do what I want?"
I was still staring at him as he lay there in front of me looking into my eyes.
He asked, "What's it going to take to convince you I'm really here?"
Replying flatly I said, "Someone, besides me, seeing you."
He gave me a grin and leaned in slowly. Kissing me gently on the lips. When he pulled back he said, "This may very well be our last night together. How do you want to spend it? Doubting I'm here, or just accepting that I am."