Missing

I met Brandi in middle school. We have the kind of friendship only enduring countless crushes, sleepovers, dances, bodysuits, note notebooks, forbidden cigarettes, wine coolers, Saturday nights at Metropolis, Summerfests, camping trips, church festivals and every possible permutation of adolescent female shenanigans together can create. I've known her and her little sister Katie (I won't even go into the things we did to corrupt her) for two decades and except for a couple years during/after college where we lost touch, have been privy to all the ups and downs of their lives. Unfortunately a major "down" occurred last year, just before Thanksgiving. Brandi and Katie's father, Dirk passed away pretty suddenly.

My own father died after a long battle with cancer when I was 13, and I don't know if Brandi remembers this (we've found that often one vividly recalls an incident from our adolescence while the other draws a complete blank), but one of the handful of times I ever really cried about it was at Brandi's apartment one night when we were having a sleepover. I don't remember what precipitated it, but I DO remember Brandi hugging me for a long time and letting me cry. I can't think of many times in my entire grown life where someone just held me and let me cry. I can't think of many times I've ever LET anyone do that.

I wish I could've been at the hospital during the difficult weekend before he died. Of course I went to the memorial and the party afterward. The memorial had an open mic at the end where anyone could get up and speak about Dirk. I admire Brandi and Katie for being able to talk about their dad then. I wanted to get up and say something, in fact, I'd rehearsed it the whole drive to Milwaukee. In the end, my anxiety about public speaking, and even more so, public crying, got the best of me and I remained seated. I'd like to share what I wanted to say with Brandi and Katie, others who knew and loved Dirk, and those that didn't know him at all.

Dirk belonged to a snowmobile club and always invited me along for trips and rides. When Brandi and I were 15 or 16 we went up north (Eagle River maybe?) on one such trip. There were a lot of us, Brandi's uncles and cousins as well as friends. We got into the usual mischief with purloined vodka and staying up late and driving the sleds too fast (I shudder to think how I possibly survived the frequent stupidity of my teenage self). During the day we took long trail rides as a group. It was on one of these rides that I had my first crash. I was driving one of Dirk's sleds, Brandi was riding on the back and Dirk was behind us on another machine. He was messing with me, riding my tail and gunning his engine. A sharp curve came up suddenly, I hit the gas instead of the brake and the next thing I knew the sled's front skis were hung up in a tree and Brandi and I and the snowmobile were dangling precariously above the ground. It was probably only inches but it felt like miles. Dirk got us down and we assessed the damage: a cracked windshield. I was in tears. Dirk never scolded me or got upset. In fact, he got out the camera to document the scene (I'll have to dig that photo out one of these days) and insisted I get right back on and keep driving.

Its a little story that at the time seemed like a big deal and its one I immediately think of when I think of Dirk. Not only was the crash scary, the worst part for me was my initial fear that he'd be angry with me. Or disappointed. And he wasn't either.

I spent countless hours and weekends at Brandi's house. Dirk was always around to chauffeur or chaperone (albeit a pretty easygoing chaperone). He never expected anything but good from me, I felt. As a result, I never wanted to disappoint him. I respected him. I wanted to make him proud of me. And in that way he stepped into the role that went missing when my dad died. I don't know if he intended to or if it was just how it happened, and I'll never get to ask him. I don't think it matters anyway.

I am lucky to have such a friendship, such memories and such influence in my life. Brandi and Katie are lucky to have had Dirk for a dad and I feel such sadness for what I know they are feeling at his leaving. I know personally what cold comfort stories and memories can be when one is grieving. But it is all we really have when someone dies. Our love for them and the memory of their love for us.