I can't remember meeting Josh. It feels like he just showed up in our living room one day, and had simply always been with us. Eric said we met him at a Church Home Community back when we were having people over every Tuesday for coffee and brownies to get to know the new folks at church. Back when we had a church home. But I just remember this tall kid with skinny legs and ankle socks, and a military haircut, with an easy smile and contagious laugh. He would sit in our recliner and when he would tell a story, he'd throw up his arms and legs animatedly, making the whole chair rock, and all of us laugh.
Josh soon moved into the apartment upstairs from us with Ron, Eric's old roommate. They were family, in and out of our apartment like Joey and Chandler.
When people leave Portland, we usually only stay connected on Facebook. But when Josh left Portland, he stayed family. He was still "Uncle Josh" to our kids. He was still welcome to drop by the house on his random visits to Portland. He would still call us at midnight for a 3 hour phone conversation that I would have to charge my battery in the middle of, or hand Eric the phone so I could use the bathroom. We talked about so many things. God, girls, plans, music, culture, people.
He was still the person we wanted to talk to when things felt heavy or dark. And when he would visit, or when we went to visit him, we would pick up right where we left off, like no time had passed at all. We had even made a road trip, considering moving to a small town in Washington called Omak in order to be closer to our friend.
But Josh never stayed in one place for very long. Adventure was inside of him. He needed to immerse himself in a new culture and become one of its people. I loved hearing his stories and observations, and seeing the photos and videos he'd take of his experiences.
The last time he called, I was in the middle of something and didn't have time for one of our marathon conversations, so I declined the call. I will regret that for the rest of my life.
On April 4th, 2017, 11 days before his 34th birthday, Josh was a passenger in a car that hit some ice in a snow storm, and rolled over three times.
Josh died on impact.
I saw a Facebook post by his mom that didn't make sense to me.
I tried calling his cell, but it went to voicemail.
I texted him, asking him if he was ok. No response.
i called Ron to see if he'd heard anything, but he hadn't.
I messaged his niece and his mom.
They confirmed my fear.
My friend is dead.
His memorial service is today in Omak.
I won't be able to be there.
Im scared to be in the car for that long.
Anxiety pulls me under, trying to drown me, when I don't feel safe in the car. I concentrate on taking one breath at a time when that happens. And then I'm on the other side of the bridge.
When my my sister was killed, I wouldn't leave my parents' house for months. I know I'll get through this too. But not in time for the service.
My grief will never stop.
But with time, it will change, and I will be able to breathe again.
And I will find a new normal.
And the world will be a little bit darker.