Today has been a fucked-up day.

It's strange how, until you actually lose someone, the thought of them not being there never even crosses your mind. Sure, in your mind's most morbid wanderings, you may think, "What if so-and-so died?" but it's impossible to grasp the reality of it, the finality of death. And then suddenly, there's no more "somedays," no more "maybe tomorrow's." Only, "If only's." And you're left with this poisoned feeling, this sickening knowledge that these things do happen and will happen to people close to you. It's a feeling beyond sad. It's an angry, bruise-colored feeling, a mixture of anger, despair, and heartsickness, all colored by a sense that life is just so surreal sometimes. The fact that someone can be worried about all the mundane aspects of getting from day-to-day one moment and just gone the next is so hard to understand. I struggle with it every time I'm faced with a situation like this one.

I think after someone dies there's this strange transformation that takes place in the memory of those left behind, where the person's most dreadful traits are forgotten, or embraced as a part of their unique personality. But right now I really can't remember JJ having any negative traits. Granted, I haven't seen him in a year (something I will always regret), I have five years' worth of memories of him growing up and coming into his own, and he was always amazing. He had the most unique energy, this irresistible mix of grown-up cynicism and sensitivity, a personal style that was genuine to the core. Even as an 11-year old, he seemed to have a very real sense of who he was, and we were all excited to see who he would become. By the time he was 14, he was more of a badass than most of my friends are now. He and I would hang out on the balcony of my old apartment and smoke weed that he found growing in a ditch, and sometimes we would take him out to shows or to parties. And he would get along with my friends, some of whom were ten years older than him. He was the communal little brother, kind of a cross between a young Tarzan and Dennis the Menace, always scheming and duping the younger kids, or locking me and Marly out of the house when we were supposed to be babysitting him. He taught Julie how to do the worm and I taught him how to take a proper shot of whiskey. When he was little, we talked about dragons, and when he was older, we played Spades.

CJ was a great man and an excellent father... I wish I had been able to hang out with him since I became old enough to talk to adults without feeling uncomfortable. I love my family and wouldn't change them for the world, but the Ramstads have always been the family that every kid in our group was somewhat envious of, and CJ was always the "cool" dad that defied our traditional understanding of how dads were supposed to dress and behave.

I know it's pointless to think like this, but I can't help but ask "why?" Why JJ? Why CJ? I wish I could make sense of it. I tend to think of the world as a rational place and I like to tell myself that there must have been some reason, but it just seems like the universe made a mistake to take such wonderful people. Especially JJ, who was just beginning to hone all of his talents and spring forth into the world of music and art and everything else.

It's a tragedy that defies understanding. Acceptance just has to come a little bit at a time. But I mourn not only for what we know we've lost, but what won't ever be. I had a special place in my heart for JJ, and I can only hope that someday I'm able to raise a kid as wonderful as he was.