(image by author)

I have had many friends come and go in my 39 years on this planet, but none has had more of an impact on me than Chris.

You see, Chris is dead. He has been dead for 25 years. The circumstances, and the why he died affect everything I do to this day.

We were both fourteen, young and wild children. We lived in an area that held a lot of places for young, wild kids to find trouble. A junkyard was right next to the trailer park we lived in, as well as a busy rail yard, and lots of woods and creeks. It was a quite fun place to grow up in, though I am sure my parents thought otherwise at times, especially when I would come home with torn clothes, dirty legs, and a dead fish or two in tow.

Even took in a junk yard dog as a house pet for a while. But that’s another story…

One day, Chris and I were out, roaming around in the woods, when we ended up starting to argue. To be honest, I have no recollection of what it was to cause it, I remember only that it was my fault.

What I do remember is the anger, the kind of stupid rage that makes you say things you know you will regret, but come out anyway.

I remember we walked away from each other, the last words on my lips to him being, “God, Chris, I hate you!”

And I remember the phone call later that evening telling me that Chris was dead.

You see, after leaving the woods, Chris decided that he would go with his brothers and sister for a drive, and, as they drove down the road, a drunk driver ran them off the highway, into a tree, and forever burning that last moment with him into my brain.

The last thing that this boy, one whom I loved deeper than any brother, whom I spent every waking moment with for years, heard me say to him, was that I hated him.

That moment has haunted me in the twenty five years since, as no other moment has. Since that fateful day, any time I have an argument with someone I know, be it friend or foe, I will not allow us to walk away from one another without a resolution.

And I warn anyone who wishes to be a friend to me to never allow that to happen.

You see, the anger burns away quickly, but regret can last for a lifetime.

(image by author)

It’s never, ever, too early to say you are sorry.