Seven years have passed since February 1, 2008. My very good friend died seven years ago today.
Yesterday, as I do each year, I went to a mosque to say a prayer for him. I don’t know what else to do to commemorate the occasion. This year, however, it was a little bit different.
This year, while I was sitting and listening to the prayer service, I started thinking about what it used to be like when I did go to mosque. I stopped going about 12 years ago. I was thinking about what my life used to be like, and wondering if it weren’t better then.
I remembered breaking down into tears when I heard his name announced as a deceased member of the community, seven years ago. My dad was sitting next to me. If I’ve ever been in a mosque, I’ve been sitting next to my dad.
I remembered why I started Letters’ Lounge. It was for times just like these – when you want so badly to say or write something to someone who you can’t say or write anything to. Mind you, that person doesn’t need to be dead.
I remembered how much more outwardly emotional I was. For those of you who know me, imagine what I was like then. Tragic.
I remembered how I didn’t drink or smoke, and that I was physically active. I used to be diligent in my work, despite the fact that I napped just as much then as I do now.
I remembered how I used to be a lot more concerned about my appearance and made a real effort to look nice. I didn’t always have the greatest sense of style, but an “A” for effort ain’t too bad.
I remembered feeling comfortable in mosque.
I wasn’t comfortable while I was sitting there last night, thinking about my past.
What was really strange was that I had to keep reminding myself why I went to mosque while I was there. I wasn’t thinking about my buddy as much as I was thinking about myself. I guess that’s just how it goes though.
It’s not that I’ve stopped thinking about him, but I don’t as much. The unfortunate truth is that there isn’t anything new to think about with regard to him. I’ve thought about all that I can of him.
Anyway, I’m going to try going to a mosque on a regular basis, in conjunction with my attempt to practice meditation. I figure I don’t have anything to lose, except for the time I probably would’ve wasted. More on this later.
For now, if you knew Nash, it might just be a good time to think the same things you’ve always thought about a great guy who was gone too soon.