Lost Love

Before the boy, there was Daniel.

We met one summer at a high school tennis camp. My hitting buddy was on vacation, and I jumped at the chance to ask him to be my new partner for the day. When he didn't sound disgusted but pleasantly surprised, I beamed. When I realized he was so much better than me, but didn't give me a hard time about it, I started to like him even more.

We found out we had a lot in common. He was an artist, loved music and concerts, played tennis, was as annoyed about high school as I was, and believed in the good of people. I had never met anyone who read so much, or who read so much Shakespeare and actually understood it. He asked me out on a date to the state fair, and like a high school fairy tale, we held hands and stole glances at each other the whole night.  If you think about all the cliches you would see in a movie about first love, they were all present that night. We were both crazy for one another.

After that day, we soon became a couple. He was my best friend. We spent summer days at the river, hung out in Santa Cruz where he went to school, made mix tapes for each other, watched all the latest movies, went to concerts, made art for one another, talked about politics, college, leaving our small town, backpacking in Europe. A future together.

We were a couple from about 1998 to 2002. He told me we came from different worlds, and that it was time for both of us to move on, that I didn't really want him, that I needed someone else but just didn't want to admit it. For a bit we kept in touch. But eventually, I stopped making an effort and so did he. I met the boy and fell in love again.

Last week, Daniel died in a car accident. It had been 6 years since I last spoke to him, and after we broke up I cut off all my ties to anyone connected to him. My good friend back home heard it through the grapevine and told me Saturday night. I flew out Sunday morning, just in time for the memorial.

When I got to the memorial, a photo I took of him and his brother was framed at the front table. I just about lost it. I kept to myself in a corner, silently crying, until they asked for people to share any stories in memory of Daniel. I stood up and walked to the podium. This is what I said.

It has been about 6 years since I last heard from Daniel, but from the years 1998 to 2002, we were very close, and I treasure the happy time that we spent together. I'd like to thank his family for welcoming me into their home when I was an obnoxious teenager--I probably ate all your food and tied up your phone line. Thank you for treating me like family.

Daniel was so special to me and embodied so many firsts. First date, first kiss, first love, first 'F' on a paper--which he helped me raise to a 'B+', first day of college. He was always there for me. 

It's hard for me to pick one memory, because I have so many good stories, but one of the memories I cherish is our time at the river. I was always too scared to scale the cliff down to the river by myself. So Daniel would go down a few steps, and then point to the rocks that were safe. Every time, I would hesitate, because I'm just cautious and I didn't always trust him. But he would hold out his hand to me, and say "It's ok, Mo. I got you." We'd hold hands carefully walking down the cliff, and like he promised, we always made it down safely. 

Even though it had been so long since we were in each others' lives, I am going to miss Daniel so much. And I am so glad that I can be here today.

His family embraced me after, and told me the hard truth the next day. Since I had last heard from him, Daniel wasn't well. He got sick. He was never like he was when I last knew him best.

 [From top to bottom: A Valentine's Day card, Daniel, and Me and Daniel at REM in 1999]

I hope that in writing this post, it helps me remember all the good in our relationship and relieves some of the grief I have over never being able to be with him again.

Rest in peace, Daniel. Thank you for teaching me how to love.