The Loss of a Friend

-I'd like the memory of me to be a happy one. Of happy memories that I leave behind when day is done.

On April 23rd 2006 the world lost an amazing person. Matt Turley was serving in Argentina on a church mission when he was struck by a drunk driver, tragically ending his life. I had the good fortune to grow up with Matt when he moved into our neighborhood in first grade. Right away we formed an amazing friendship, playing baseball and football in his seemingly enormous backyard. We would walk home from school, drop our book-bags off and then meet in his yard for home run derby or "two hand touch" football that always turned into tackle.

It's hard to believe that its been five years already. I try not to think about the loss and how long its been since I've seen my friend, but instead I remember all the good times we had. Like the summer that Matt, Joe Bonanni and I turned badminton into an extreme, no boundaries slugfest. Or the games of football we would play when Matt was the quarterback and I was the receiver. Matt would tell me to just run past the defense and he would get the ball to me. It only took a few games before Matt and I weren't allowed to be on the same team because it wasn't fair for everyone else.

It seemed like we did everything together, from Little League baseball to hours of video games. From nerf basketball in his tiny bedroom to snow forts and sledding. When I think of my childhood Matt is the first person that comes to mind. The memories are forever and on days like today I can think back on so many good times. Like when our 4 younger sisters put on a play in the Turley's living room. It was supposed to be very serious but Matt and I were uncontrollably laughing as if Jerry Seinfeld was in the room and not our sisters. That did not go over well at the time, but it always brings a smile to my face when I think about it now.

I think back on the day Aaron and Ryan Smith moved to Pennsylvania in 5th grade, the saddest day of our lives at that point. We sat in Matt's kitchen and cried for hours, not speaking a word. I even think back to the day that the Turley's moved from Old Stagecoach Road. Even though they were moving 3 minutes away, it felt like they were moving to California. And what should have been a sad day turned into a comedy of errors, from us dropping their refrigerator full of stuff on the driveway, to the moving van getting stuck in their yard.

There are so many things that I can look back on but my favorite memories are playing home run derby in his backyard. Matt's dad Scott would buy sleeves of tennis balls and pitch to us for hours as we tried to launch home runs into the woods. On the days Scott had to work Matt and I would beg him to hurry up so we could play. Their deck provided a great backstop, however each day we would lose a few balls underneath it. We would try to recover some from underneath the deck but some were so far gone that they are probably underneath there to this day. When I drive by that old house and look at the backyard I get emotional. I can still picture the badminton net and batters box next to the deck.

"I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend". 

I never got a chance to say goodbye to Matt or even let him know how much I appreciated our times together. It's still hard to think about what happened and I don't believe I'll ever truly be able to articulate his impact on his family, our friendship and all who knew him.

I hope that one day I will see him again and he will be waiting. With an unlimited supply of tennis balls and a backyard that will be big enough for home run derby, badminton and "two hand touch" football. I hope.