Two Years Later: Eugene

Hi Eugene,

As of this morning, it’s been two years since you passed. A lot has changed over the last year and it seems people have began moving towards the next phase in their lives. It’s a good thing. You’d be happy for them, I’m certain.

As time seems to lurch forward, it becomes progressively less painful and I think of you less. Then, the survivor’s guilt kicks in and I begin to hate myself for it. And I realize you would want for us to feel less pain and then, I feel even more guilty.

While my daily life becomes more bearable than it was two years ago, the moments when I do reminisce on you has become more severe. Last month, Angie was in Miami. Her, Maria, and I went to watch a new anime flick called Weathering with You. It’s from Makoto Shinkai, who also wrote and directed Your Name. It’s not as good as Your Name, but it’s still pretty wonderful.

It’s about a teenage boy who runs away to Tokyo, during a particularly intense rainy season. He meets an orphaned teenage girl and her younger brother. She seems to have the power to will the rain away. She’s what they call a Sunshine Girl. They begin an online business where they provide sunshine to her clients for small pockets of time. Of course, like Shinkai’s other works, these two fall in love. Breathtakingly animated and deeply romantic. It’s right up your alley and you would have adored it.

I spent the rest of the night thinking about you and how much you would loved this movie. Over the last couple of years, whenever I’m in need of comfort, I play Panic! at the Disco’s Pretty. Odd. It puts me at ease. The next morning, I drove to work and played the album. I started crying and I couldn’t stop.

Nowadays, it’s really hard to put into words how this all feels. Most days, it feels normal, as if nothing has changed. Other days, when faced with the reality of it, I remember and I feel empty inside knowing that I’ll never get to see or speak to you again. Then, it doesn’t feel normal anymore. It’s such a weird, emotional toll to go through. To suddenly switch at the drop of a hat from feeling normal to not. From feeling fine to hollow in seconds. Then, the permanency kicks in and I realize that the hollowness will likely never fully go away.

I don’t want to worry you, but your dad is currently going through something that I know you wouldn’t want me to publicly disclose. You’ll know what it is. He tries to minimize the situation as much as he can, likely to not worry us too. Though I’m pretty sure you know, I thought it important to make you aware of the situation. I don’t know if there is an afterlife and if so, how it works, but I was hoping that you’d be able to check up on them. We try to, but we’re more busy these days. I’m sorry. I’ll make more of an effort.

I personally have had a pretty difficult year permeated by recurring episodes of depression, but I function well enough. Sometimes, I want to be able to talk to you because you had empathy, something some of our friends lack. You could be understanding and comforting, while still providing honest, constructive feedback. I miss that. I miss you, bruuh.

We miss you, Eugene. You were an incredible friend and a great person. Whenever I do think of you, I desperately hope that you’re happy. You deserve that much. So here’s my yearly reminder: Don’t forget just how loved you were. 

Keep on.

Adam