A man I went to high school with passed away yesterday. I was friendly with him back then, but by no means was he my friend. I think acquaintance is the word. It had nothing to do with him or his character, we just hung around in different circles. Actually, he hung around in many circles. I was an outcast. But I digress. His name was Jason Oliver. He was a young man with big dreams. Specifically one very big, ambitious dream. He was going to be the President of The United States of America. He just might have. Who knows? I am sure that anyone who ever set out to lead a nation began by having such a dream.
After graduating, I moved on with my life, swearing to never speak to anyone from my high school again. I stuck true to my conviction. Well, for the most part I did. I ran into a few people here and there and bars or nightclubs or what have you, but other than my high school pal, Brian, I had no contact with the graduates of ’92. That goes as well for ’90, ’91, ’93 and so on and so forth. Then, a crazy invention came about a few years ago called Facebook and before I knew it I was “friends” with a large group of people I went to high school with. I guess some convictions we hold as true, become transparent and then finally just disappear over time. But again, I digress.
This isn’t about technology or reliving high school memories, good and bad, this is about something larger and more impactful than anything I have ever experienced, and for those who know me, it could be said that I have experienced a lot.
You see, something happened to me, for the first time ever, about a year ago. I realized I wasn’t immortal. Yes, I know this sounds ridiculous, but up until then I was young. I no longer feel young. I don’t feel old either, but I cannot say with conviction that I am a spring chicken. A wave of terror crashed down onto me that day. That terror was death. I knew, for the first time ever, that I was actually going to die. I knew, in my bones, that one day I would cease to be. Fear and sweat and panic washed over me. I never faced this before. Sure, I have been alive long enough to bury two grand parents and a friend who committed suicide a year or two after graduating, but I had yet to FEEL death inside my core. To know him. His existence and to face him. I faced that inevitability that day and I was scared. Truly scared.
So, back to Jason Oliver. I couldn’t understand why the death of someone I barely knew had affected me so deeply. The sweet and wonderful words that everyone left for him on Facebook hit like a sledge-hammer. I can say, with absolute certainty, that he was loved. He will be missed. The words and tears of his family and friends (and there are many) have stated as much. But why? Why was I – am I – so affected? I think I know now. It’s because Jason is the first person I knew, who was my age, that I grew up with and schooled with, who ceased to be. It confirms that one day I will cease to be, as well… I want to be.
