Today is the anniversary of the death of my friend Jimmy. He was someone so close to me. We were able to fight with one another, but we always knew there was love behind it. My favorite thing to do was hangout in the Taco Bell with Jimmy for hours. I've blamed myself for his death through the years. There's certainly a chance that our beloved trips contributed to his death. He died of chronic diarrhea. Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever live it down.
We used to play sports with each other all of the time. In class, I would day dream strategies to try and beat him in whichever sport was in season. Our favorite was basketball. We used to pretend that we were NBA players. I would be Anthony Peeler and he was usually Chris Dudley. We had an innocence back then. In a cold world, a friend and a dream is all that really matters.
I have so many fond memories of Jimmy. We saw our first concert together, Da Bush Babees. Of course, our Dudley-Peeler matchups were legendary. We used to fight in the street if one of us said anything the least bit off-putting to the other. I remember one time Jimmy came over when we were very young. I told a joke that sent him into a state of hysteria. He went home laughing. The joke was so funny that, after Jimmy left, I threw up my apple juice.
We always used to clown on each other. It was so much fun because never took it seriously. I told tons of fat jokes at Jimmy's expense, even though he made Manute Bol look big-boned. He used to tell black jokes. I'm not black, but I always took it as a metaphor or something.
We used to call up people from school that we didn't like and threaten them. Those prank calls were often the highlight of my day. We were just two friends bonding and of course, getting into a bit of mischief. Jimmy was such a good person. One of our acquaintances was a bit spooked because someone kept calling her and threatening her family. She wasn't sure if it was a prank or if she was in real danger. Jimmy was so compassionate in calming her down. She felt much better.
I really miss him. Sometimes I stay up late at night staring at old photos of the two of us. A tear runs down my cheek and I try to keep those memories dry and pure. How can such a good person die so young? It doesn't seem fair. In war, when your best friend is killed beside you, you tend to forget about everything and fight with reckless abandon. That's the way I've responded to Jimmy's death and his chronic diarrhea.
Rest in peace buddy. I love you.