For Damon

This week, Damon would have been 32. I can't exactly remember his birthday, I think it was the 26th, but it was most definitely in the Pisces last week of February.

Damon was my best friend in my vulnerable and tumultuous Middle School and High School years. We met in the 6th grade when we were 11. I'm not sure what class it was as we had several classes together as we were about the same above average level of intelligence, our last names both started with 'D', and that we both chose to take French as our foreign language.

He was the Laurel to my Hardy, the Moe to my Curly. We were an odd pairing as we were two extremes; he was shorter and extremely skinny (almost skeletal, but I'll come back to that later) and I was as I am today, a bit on the overweight side. We hung out mostly just inside of school as he lived halfway across the small city I called home, but we did socialize outside of school just a handful of times. We didn't have everything in common; he didn't understand my art and music classes just as I didn't understand his business, accounting, and marketing classes, but somehow we made an unlikely pair.

Together we made fun of everything we couldn't stand: irritating teachers, different cliques, whatever we could have a laugh at. And it was that irreverent sort of piss-taking that helped me through troublesome points of my tweens and teens such as my parents' divorce and those peers who abused me. I hope that he felt that I was there for him in the same way when his mother passed away from the cancer later in high school.

Many semesters we were in the same gym class, and of course we were always the ones lagging behind the pack whilst running. Me of course for my obvious overweight issues, but his issues were not as apparent. As we ran, or more likely walked, he would have coughing fits that sounded very congestive. He then opened up to me and told me he had Cystic Fibrosis and that he was born with a collapsed lung, and that doctors only expected him to live until he was 19. To add to that, he also had pancreatic issues, which was why he could never put on weight.

While in college some 11 years ago, I got the call from my mother saying that she'd seen the news that Damon had passed away. I was stuck 5 hours from home without a car of my own, so I couldn't have made the wake in time. After we graduated high school, I saw him only on one occasion while walking through the local mall. I wished some things could have been different so that we could have had more time together. He impacted my life in a way no one else has ever.

If anyone takes anything away from this post, I hope that it's this: There is currently no cure for Cystic Fibrosis. If you can, please give to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. I don't know the numbers but I'm sure there are plenty of kids and young adults who need your help, people that could be your relatives or friends.