It came again, just like it does every year. March 8th. I should remember the exact date better since it's also my brother's birthday. But it sneaks up like some creep mugger in a dark alley and strikes you before you know it. Today marks the 7th anniversary of Sam Shackleford's passing. It's crazy to think it's been 7 years.
The thing about March 8th is that it never makes me sad. I mean, it DOES, but I don't tend to get emotional about death very often. It's always been a cycle to me. The same way that everyone in my life or not in my life is a cycle. One day, God wants this person in your life. And the next day, he does not. This person is gone to ME- but not actually gone from me. If that makes any kind of sense.

For anyone who hasn't heard me mention Sam, let me tell you about him. Because I think it's in this way he lives on. Sam is (and I always say IS and not WAS because he's not gone from me) an amazing human being. When he was physically here he had this calming presence, as he still does if you ask me. Our problems always went to Sam, and he always took them. He was wise beyond his years and always knew the right thing to say to make us think. Sam is like Chamomile Tea in human form. He warms the spirit. He calms the soul. I knew him for a short period of time but he is one of those people whom you instantly know you want to attach to your life. And so I did. We quickly became friends and remained close until the day he passed. I shot my first hand gun with Sam. We stayed up late into the night talking about nothing and eating Hersey's Kisses. I was a silly 20 year-old girl with no real aspirations who probably talked about life as if I felt I had lived it yet and he took me seriously. He made me, as well as probably every other person he came in contact with, feel important. I wanted to BE like him. I wanted to be smart and caring and attentive. And I feel like that was his gift to me... something to aspire to. I always think of him on March 8th but prefer to celebrate his birthday on December 15th because it was when he was brought into this world that I choose to recognise and not when he was taken out of it. Two years ago I got my memorandum to him by way of the musical note on my calf. It has his signature as well as his birth date- which was also the date I had the tattoo done. I will not, COULD not, ever forget Sam. So to him I say: I love you. And thank you for having been sent into my life.

1 comment:

Scott+Kimber+Ruby=Scimby said...

Thats so nice Megan. Its so good to be able to talk about people we love that have died. I feel like when a certain amount of time passes, people expect you to stop talking about your loved one. And I hate that. When one of my very best friends died, it changed my life. And there is not a day (an HOUR) that I don't think about her and miss her and love her. And I want to be able to tell people about how wonderful she is and how much her friendship changed me. So I'm glad you're doing the same for your Sam. You got a tattoo, and I names my daughter after my friend....two beautiful tributes, I should say!