One of my childhood friend's passed away Monday. He was one of the few people who really knew me way back in the day. We lost touch after high school - he became a paratrooper and I got really sick - but we had reconnected through facebook. He asked me to let him know the next time I was in town so we could meet up. Tomorrow, when I go down for his services, will be the first time I've been down since that conversation.
My heart is heavy today. His passing has made me think about everything all over again. My health problems emerged when I was twelve-years old. High school was rough, all the things I didn't know and needed to talk about and couldn't because I didn't have any facts, just probabilities and a bunch of people (doctors, therapists, school) telling me to be positive. Like that would fix shit. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to have kids. I knew, I don't know how, but I knew something was very wrong and no one wanted to do anything about it.
Most people didn't notice that anything was wrong. Jeremy did. He pulled me aside one day, to ask what was up. I had a full-on panic attack and blabbed every worry I had, including the baby-worry. I didn't tell most people, I had no answers, nothing concrete, and I didn't want it talked about it at the rumor mill.
Jeremy was one of the few people who knew. He was the first guy to tell me that it was okay if I couldn't have kids, that someone out there would still love me and that some guys would like the fact that I couldn't have kids. I didn't like that last bit, it gave me some grief, but I will always remember him going out of his way to tell me that it was okay.
Rest in Peace Jeremy.