Jane Addams

I do not believe that women are better than men. We have not wrecked railroads, nor corrupted legislature, nor done many unholy things that men have done; but then we must remember that we have not had the chance.

Jane Addams

For Chris

Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes

Where is that simple day
Before colors broke into shades
And how did I ever fade
Into this life, into this life

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day

Morning is waking up
And sometimes it's more than just enough
When all that you need to love
Is in front of your eyes
It's in front of your eyes

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
Sometimes it's hard to find the ground
Cause I keep on falling as I try to get away
From this crazy world

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day

Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes
Opens his eyes

Josh Groban, "February Song"

I knew what it meant when I heard it. When I read the words. When I told daddy, Daddy,  this song is for someone lost. He must have died in February. And then last year when I lost Chris in February I understood what it meant for real.

Dear Chris, this is the day I cried for you in the car and on the bed staring into the ceiling until I fell asleep and when I woke up, nothing felt different because you were still dead and I was still alive. But I want to wake up with a dream of you. An uncalled memory of you. You were really the only close guy friend I had. I don't know what I meant to you, but you mean so much to me. Thank you for being in my life. I am fortunate to have known you for the few years I knew you. And I know this is a letter without an address. And I know you can't read a letter without an address, but Chris, I want to revive you in this ink. Can I? Annie Dillard said, "write as if you're dying." For the life of you will I write to my death. I remember you showing your Notre Dame letter to me in the science wing hallway and you were smiling with this happiness I would only come to know a year later when I would get my own. Thank you for sharing your smile with me. I could go on and tell you too late of the things I should have thanked you for. I have no picture of us together. I didn't give you much save for the hugs and laughter. You have given me so much--tears, yes, in thinking of you, in missing you--but you have given me gratitude for the little things in life that matter. I wish I could write better than this for you. It'll sound so strange but I am thankful for your death as much as your life. I don't know--I don't know if you or anyone would understand what I just wrote. But it's true. That Thursday when I saw you last, I wish I spent more time with you. I wish I hugged you longer. If I had known, I wanted to say, "Please don't die." I wish I could have stopped that train for you. Do you know what is stranger? Yesterday at the memorial service I didn't cry. I don't know if that was right or brave. Perhaps it was wrong and cowardly. Or even indifferent. But Chris, this is my fear. I am afraid that I am forgetting the fear of forgetting you. Because I don't want to forget you. I am afraid I moved on too fast. I want to hold on to the tears for you. I know it's okay to cry. I don't know if it's okay not to. I want you to come back, come to school tomorrow as an alum. Call my name at the end of the hallway so I can turn around and see you, run to you and give you a flying hug. Please? Because I would like to call your name back at the end of the hallway for the sake that you are standing there. Instead here I am, standing for you.