If you’ve read my blog for the past few years, you might have noticed that I’ve mentioned my friend Sac-Town a few times. He was part of my video game crew. I told you what happened the time a couple of Mormons dropped by his house. I shared with you his account of what happened during one of the Metallica concerts we went to. These are just a few of our adventures together. Maybe some day I’ll tell you a few more. For now, though, what I will tell you is this:
There was a time when the two of us saw each other 6 out of the 7 days a week. We were inseparable. Eventually, life, as it always does, started to get in the way.
He got married. We started hanging out less. He had a son. We hung out less. I got married. Less. He got divorced. Less. I had a daughter. Less. He had a second son. Less. He got married again. Less.
It got to the point to where it was a couple of months in between seeing each other. His second son was a month old before I was able to see him for the first time. This part of our friendship together is one of the things that inspired me to write this.
We recognized what was happening and we decided it was time to change it. Our families went out to dinner together two weekends ago: my wife, my daughter, and myself along with him, his new wife, and both of his sons. Before we left the restaurant, we agreed that every other weekend, we would take turns hosting dinners out our houses. That way, there’s only a couple of weeks at most in between visits. The Saturday coming up was supposed to be the first one. My wife and daughter were supposed to come with me over to his house.
That’s not going to happen anymore.
I will still see him on Saturday, but it won’t be at his house. It will be at the funeral home. His second son, only 5 months old, died this week.
I can’t imagine what he’s going through. I do my best to not think about it because I never want to be in the position that he’s in. All I will do is try to be there for him as best I can, because I know that there’s nothing that I’ll be able to do that can make him feel any better.
My own emotions, which are nowhere near the level that Sac-Town’s are, are a chaotic jumble. I feel angry that his son was taken from this world. I feel saddened, both for the boy and his parents. Mostly, though, I just feel guilty: guilty that I never made more of an effort to see them before this happened.
I try to spend as much time with my wife and daughter as I can. Sure, there are times where I’m glad it was just the three of us. There were also times that it could’ve been more than that. There were times where we took our daughter up to the park to put her on the swings and slides. How easy would it have been to call Sac-Town, or text him, and say, “Hey, we’re going to the park. Want to meet us up there?” Even if he had come back and said that they were too busy, at least I could have said I tried.
For now, all I can say is: I’m sorry, little man. I should have been there to hold you more. Just know that your Uncle Revis loves you and I know that no matter where you are, it is certainly a better place for having you there.