9 years.
9 years is a lifetime for a 15-16-year-old. I have never thought- seriously about what life would be like when Paul left. I just somehow always assumed Paul would always be there, and I would always be there.
Now Paul's leaving us all behind to go build his dream. 10k by 10k, he outpaces us...
I'm happy for him, don't get me wrong. But at this moment, it doesn't feel like I could ever move on.
I was never happy with being second best. That's why I didn't keep with debating in year 7. If I could go back, I would willingly be second in everything if I could just be second after Paul. If I could follow Paul to his dream. But it's too late; I'm 5 years too late. I've learned this lesson about pride in the hardest way possible.
Now, all I have to remember him by are those three books from his shelf, and a few photos. Paul has always been a very private person. He would share nothing about himself that he didn't have to. And I detested him for that. Now it's all different; I would give... oh... so much, to just follow behind him, blind and deaf to everything but his feet in marathon runners climbing ever upward and the heavy lightness of his footsteps, to the edges of the sky and the ends of the world.
In the earlier years I considered Paul a friend. But then teenage angst kicked in and I didn't think anyone was a real friend. And Paul is such an infuriating creature. "My best friend's leaving too," said Lizzy, trying to comfort me. And yes. Really, that's what he's been all along. Paul has always been my best friend. Even if we don't hang like we used too.
And every time I'll go on Facebook or Twitter afterward, I'll hurt to
see he has replaced us with new friends...
So I will work as hard as humanly possible. And I will open the doors one by one in this journey of life. (And yes, it is a journey; and the greatest landmark yet has been reached.) And maybe one day, maybe, a door will open and on the other side will be my friend Paul.
I love this post. It's original, with a dash of genuine humane emotion that makes it so much more relatable, and yet successfully avoiding falling in the trap of over the top, superfluously flowing sentiments. I especially like how you've drawn a lesson about pride from this 'incident'. There's a touch of Pride and Prejudice magic in there!
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure exactly what I should or can say.
ReplyDeleteEveryone charts their own path, writes their own story and walks their own roads. Even though I'm getting off the train one stop earlier, life goes on. It won't be the same, but it goes on.
It wasn't an easy decision leaving. Few of you will truly understand what it is I'm putting at jeopardy. But while no-one knows exactly what is coming, we all know what happened. It's been a glorious 9 years we've had together.
A good friend or a madman, you where too much too lightly Kenneth. I don't care what you say, we all know in our hearts what you're capable of. And that's the ability to beat each and every single one of us.
You've always been an enigma to me. Sometimes you seem more social, more connected, more normal than I. And yet there are those moments when no-one understands what on earth you're thinking, least of all me, It'll take me a lifetime to truly understand what goes on in the reincarnated Einstein skull. But at least I'll have the pleasure of having worked with a great man like you.
And thanks to the 'internets' and services from 'the google', we'll be miles apart, separated by one click. Life won't be the same, but it goes on.