My friend, Sam

So, I have been thinking a lot about my friend, Sam.

Sam was my neighbor when I was a kid. For ten years we lived next door to each other. I spent weekends and summers riding bikes with Sam and his two sisters, Lydia and Sarah. In the winters we would go sledding together, or cross country skiing with our families in the forests behind our houses. We were in class together from Kindergarten to 6th grade at a small Christian school. He was at all of my birthday parties, and we built mud pies in the play house in front of his front yard. Sam and I were on little league baseball teams together, and carpooled to school. We would sometimes trade food at lunch, but not often because neither of us had anything good. Our mothers both took great pride in providing healthy lunches for us, complete with whole wheat bread, wheat germ, natural peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

Sam, Sarah, Lydia, and I were pretty much inseparable, but there was something special to me about Sam. He was a little bit of a small kid. He was always the smartest in class, no matter what, and he wore glasses- as smart kids should. Sam was sweet. I remember in class that when kids would be mean he just would look like his very spirit could not comprehend the cruelty. He was picked on sometimes. This was probably a little bit because he was small, and smart, but mostly just because kids are mean. I always felt like Sam needed me. Kids picked on me too, but not that much. I wasn't an easy target, and I wasn't as sweet as Sam...so to pick on me meant they were going to get it right back.

When I was in 6th grade, my parents decided to send me to public school. I think I had asked to go. I lasted about a week before my parents agreed to put my back in private school. They asked why I didn't like my new school, and I never really gave them a reason. My teacher was nice, the kids were...kids...but not mean. I even knew one or two of them from playing sports in the community leagues, and from the neighborhood. What really bothered me though, was that Sam was not changing schools. He would be in our old school, riding with his mom every day like I used to do. He would be sitting in the same library, and having PE in the same gymnasium. I could not stand leaving him, and my old life behind.

The next year Sam went to a new school, and so did I. It was still a tough transition, but I did fine because I wasn't the only one who had moved on. Sam had too. After we stopped going to school together, we didn't see much of each other. Our families were still close, though, so we would get together at holidays and for family dinners. Sam and I would always share stories about our new friends, schools, and that sort of thing. We had become family, all of us, and so we would catch up, and pick up where we had left off like families do. I knew that I wasn't a part of his life anymore, not really. And it was okay that he wasn't part of mine. It was a new twist on our friendship, but still fun to see him and his sisters and to know that he was there.

After college, when I got married, Sam came to my wedding with his parents. Sitting here, almost 14 years later I can't recall a lot of other people who were there, but Sam was. I didn't see him at the wedding, but I saw him getting to his table at the reception. I remember that I wanted to cry. I hadn't seen Sam in a while. I had been off to college, and he had been doing the same. I had even sort of lost track of his life, but I knew he had been living or going to school in Norway and wasn't home that much. But he was there at my wedding. My long lost childhood friend. The one that I could always count on...to play with, share with, be with, laugh with, fight off the bullies with. And him being there was right. It was a big day, and my friend Sam belonged there. There are some things that friends should not miss.

My friend Sam passed away last year. My sister called to tell me. She is five years older than me, and usually delivers the bad news. I couldn't comprehend. I had to have her repeat herself. At first I was just numb and quiet. I hadn't seen Sam in years, and although I had met his twins and his wife a time or two, he lived in Norway, so he was never present in my life. I couldn't believe he was dead, and not just living life far away. I called my mom, and she was able to give me some more details. She had found out from his sister and gone to be with his parents right away. They were doing okay, but yes, it was true.

I cried that day. And the next. I cried for about a week, and then I finally called my mom and told her that I didn't know what was wrong with me. "I just can't stop thinking about Sam", I had said. It was so confusing to me why it hurt so bad. I didn't even ever talk to him or see him. Then I figured out that I just liked knowing that he was there. I liked knowing that there was someone who remembered the same things about Kindergarten, and everything else, that I did. I might not see my friend, Sam, for five years. But one thing was certain, when I did see him again, we would talk and remember. I'm sad that we won't get to do that again. I hope Sam knew that I was always here for him. I hadn't been "there" for him in a long time. But, I was always here.