Creating a Memorial

Earlier today I received a phone call from my mom, who let me know that one of my childhood friends had been killed in Afghanistan. At first I just took it and didn’t really feel anything. It was like I didn’t really process it. I went about finding the article that documented the event and looking up family to give my condolences, but it still hadn’t hit me yet.

It wasn’t a couple hours later that it really hit me and I began to break down. I couldn’t believe that Tofu was gone. This is the first time I have lost anyone that wasn’t significantly older than me. Kids shouldn’t die, old people die and even that is hard enough to deal with.

Then as I began to break down I felt like I didn’t deserve to be upset over his death, because we hadn’t be in touch in years. I struggled with that for a while before I realized that it didn’t matter, that he had a significant impact on my life and that was enough to mourn his death.

Tofu and his sister were my first friends when I moved into this state. We lived near each other and would hang out and play all the time. First they moved, but we still went to the same high school, and then I switched high schools for my senior year and we drifted apart. But those years that we basically spent every single day together really had an impact on me.

Throughout the day I have danced between crying uncontrollably, feeling numb and nauseas, and attempting desperately to keep control. Then about half an hour ago I had a sense of peace wash over me along with a memory.

We had wanted to make a club house. So, we got permission to clean out this one shed and make it ours. So we moved everything out, which was a long hard task, and decided we wanted to paint it to our liking. We spent hours attempting to make the walls look like trees. I am not sure how it started, but I know it was either Tofu or my cousin that did start it, suddenly out of nowhere paint is flying through the air. It didn’t take long for it to turn into an all out paint war. In the end the room was destroyed, we and my dog were covered in paint, my cousin was injured, and we were all soundly beat and punished. However, when I remember it now, all I really remember is how much fun we had together.

I think that is my favorite memory of Tofu and I will treasure it and remember how we were then. If I remember that Tofu, then I know he wouldn’t want me to be crying over him, he would want me to be remembering the good times we had and laughing at all the idiotic things that we did.

So, I am going to curl up with my cherry Garcia ice cream and hot cocoa and watch some food network happy to know that Tofu’s memory will live on and be remembered as a happy one. And I know from the pit of my being the only reason I am able to do so is because YHVH lives inside me and comforts me when I am weak.


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