Love Faith and Peace

Yesterday my mom sent me a link to an obituary. It is the second time since high school that I have read an obituary of a man/boy who used to be a boyfriend. It’s unsettling, although obviously not as hard for me as it is for the man’s loved ones. But I am not that old. Just thirty *cough*cough* and yet two boys I “dated” have passed on already.

The first boy died shortly after high school graduation. We were in our early twenties. I was feeling pretty invincible with a few exceptions. Then I learned that Chad had succumbed to cancer.

I admit that I’m not evolved enough to not immediately think of myself in this situation. My first thought when I learned of Chad’s death was “what if I’d ended up with him?” I’d be a widow.

With the news of Rob’s death (a second former “boyfriend”) my mind immediately thinks that there is a second time that I might have been a widow.

Thank goodness for fate and for luck or whatever powers have blessed me so far.

Rob was probably a boy that was considered a troubled youth. He lived in a foster home just around the corner from my house. I didn’t meet him until 9th grade, which was probably when he was placed in that particular home.

Rob was often somber. He was an artistic type and introverted. I can’t even remember how we started talking, but our friendship grew over the months. I used to doodle on my desks in junior high the same three symbols…a cross, a heart and a peace sign. It was my moody teenaged angst in art form I suppose. That year Rob painted a 3-foot by 3-foot self-portrait. He was crying in his likeness and in his eye was the 3 symbols that I had drawn over and over. He was sending me a message loud and clear how he felt. I was a fickle 9th grader with several prospects.

Our friendship developed slowly over many weeks, perhaps even months until we started talking on the phone. Those phone calls moved into proposed walks after darkness had fallen. (Being Minnesota in the wintertime darkness could have fallen as early as 5 p.m.). We covered a lot of ground on those nights, both in the physical steps and in the intellectual sense. One night, toward the end of the school year, as we were preparing for the big, semi-formal ninth-grade dance Rob and I were out walking and I was telling him how I’d said I would go to the dance with Jeff but it seemed odd. Jeff and I hardly knew one another and Jeff hadn’t deemed it necessary to even call in the days since we’d decided to attend the dance together.

I realized that night who I should go to the dance with. So I broke things off with Jeff and attended the dance with Rob. If you could see the photos of us, you would see a big smile on Rob’s face. Those smiles were rare in those days for him.

We lost touch after 9th grade melted into high school (at the time in our city we had junior high which was 7th through 9th grade then high school was only 8th through 12th grade) and really only met up once after that, at a party. We didn’t have much in common anymore by then, if we’d ever had that much in common. I had a steady boyfriend by that time and Rob couldn’t relate at all to that.

He asked me then if I still had his painting, and at the time I did. I think I still do. I think it is floating around my parents’ house. It is large and red and blue and totally Rob.



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