Unrealness.

When I was growing up in Fairfield County, I really only had one good friend; Miles Hanes. He and I were pretty much inseparable, whether it was scaling Mud Mountain, playing "Star Wars" on the steps, or watching Hulk Hogan suplex the Big Bossman off a steel cage. But aside from Miles, my best friend didn't even live in the same state as me. He lived in Charleston, West Virginia. He was Ben Cavender, the son of my mother's college roommate.

Ben was amazing. He was fearless, and he made me braver just by dragging me along on whatever it was he wanted to do at any particular moment. Searching for snakes, sneaking out of the house at night to hunt UFOs, harassing his older sister and her friends. I remember one time we went to great pains to record an hour or so of us talking about bullshit, then played it back as loudly as possible, to "trick" Amber into thinking we were in his room, only to try to sneak into hers. I don't know what we thought we were going to do when we got there, but it was the journey that was important.

From the time I was five years old until I was twelve or thirteen, Ben Cavender was my best friend.

We grew apart. It was bound to happen. Separated by three and a half hours of travel and both heading into high school, it wasn't surprising. There have been times over the past ten years where I've wanted to pick up the phone, just to see how he is. I only did it once; after he was in a car wreck a few years back. Other than that, I've seen him twice in the past three years. I wish I had called him when his daughter was born. I wish I had been at his wedding a couple of months back. I wish I had spoken to him before he shipped off to Hawaii, joining the Army. I wish a lot of things, but today they've all been focused on Ben.

This morning, Ben was found in his barracks, dead. There's no cause of death yet, not even one suspected, and the first thing my brain went to is because it's the Army, we may never know. But none of that really matters... he's gone. He was a great friend, and you don't get many of them in your life. I count myself lucky to have quite a few by most people's standards, and I can't afford to take any of them for granted any longer.

I love you, Ben. I wish I had been better to you. Rest in peace.


The good buddies.