What a day. I saw my friend Matt again. I stood in line with a decently sized group and it oddly felt like a line a king’s island. I stood there in the sunny scorching sun just waiting to go into the building. However, that is where the similarities end. I walk into the room to see a giant film of pictures of Matt when he was a kid, what a dork, and I felt like I was watching his life oddly progress from beginning to end all in one film. It’s odd to think that Matt will never age he’ll always be that 20 year old guy that took one sip of Jack colla and spit it all over the place, including on me. The guy whose first beer at 20 ended with one sip of bud light, and ended with five minutes of throwing up.
I remember the day I came home from Arizona and taking my old truck to Brian’s house where Matt was. Brian got in the cab, and Matt hoped into the back of the truck bed with my spare wheel. I wink at Brian, gun the truck, and Matt topples over onto his back on the bed. Then I hit the brakes real quick, and I hear a very loud thud, and I look back to see Matt standing up with a tire track across his chest. Apparently in the whole ordeal the wheel came upright, rolled over his chest, and then came to rest at the front of the truck bed. It was the funniest thing in the world when Matt climbed down and said he felt like he got hit by a truck, and in fact had tire treads on his chest!
I stood there, and couldn’t help but say out loud ‘man, Matt was such a dork’ because he was. He was our dorky, but jockish friend whom just didn’t get enough time to hang with us all. Matt, like I’ve said a million times would play star wars cards with us, hung out with us all the time, shy as can be around women, and had a laugh that paralleled goofy. It became too real today. I got to see my friend again, to be two feet from Matt, and it all started to click. My buddy was dead, and he was sitting no more than a foot from me. I teared up, couldn’t speak, and just stood there looking at my friend. There are no words that can really describe it. It’s a sinking feeling, a panic feeling, a feeling that makes you feel ill, triggers your fleeing senses, and then makes you want to take your memories reach in with your mind and pull him from your dreams back to life. You want to make things not real, it was too real today.
You know what made things worse? We all knew there were 100 people going to the funeral. We all had no idea who was going, and being his friends we all thought we’d go. I was really optimistic about being able to be part of the procession to see this whole ordeal to final completion. I knew my one friend was on the list, but was I? The three of us wanted to know what the deal was going to be so we went to talk to the officers who directed us to a very nice lady. She worked for the pentagon, and was able to get a hold of Keith, Matts dad, and told us we needed to speak with him. In the end we go to leave thinking he’s at the yellow ribbon center, and thank god I’m slow as heck thanks to the knee because she comes running after to say he’d arrived at the civic center. We walk back, get to talk to Keith, who goes, I know you to my one buddy on the list, looks at my other buddy says he knows him, shakes my hand and says I know you too. Long story short I and another one of my buddies who was close friends with Matt are not invited. He told me know offence but you’re not on the list, but my one other buddy is. I understand, it was probably my fault for not staying in touch as much as I should have, hell Keith didn’t remember my name, and only remembered me as the ‘nerd’ one. I just feel strange. Part of me is so mad because it shouldn’t matter because I was friends with matt, hell we joined the army together, and I’m not allowed to go. The other part of me understands and I know I can go to his grave when all is said and done.
I wanted so badly to say it was bullshit, but what can you say to his dad? It’s not my place, it’s not my time, and regardless of what anyone says all of us probably knew their son better than they ever will. We have our secrets, we have our memories, and together we’re the ones who will carry him with us. Whether it was when my one friend named his son after Matt, whether it’s the times we get a beer on Matt b-day. They’ll never know what we know, and I guess the world never will know Matt that we knew. I will always say one thing. In tragedies it’s so easy to say how great a man is, whether his life had really been, but in this case Matt was a true all American great guy. Kind as can be. Shyer than me when it came to women, and with his physique you’d think he’d have been a ladies’ man. Smart as can be, especially when he wrote a short story that won him a partial scholarship that they made him read at a school assembly. Matt helped me in the gym get ready for the Army, we’d run around the track talking about the day we got back we’d walk through the mall in our uniforms. Matt had a laugh that always made me giggle, and he’d smile even more than I do.
I’ve heard people saying why all the special ceremonies for Matt. They’ve even asked what he did that was so special. I can only think how ignorant these people are. Matt joined of his own volition, did his duty without complaint, did his job with pride, and was taken prisoner by foreign enemies. Matt paid the ultimate price for our country, his parents paid the ultimate sacrifice by having their son lost for so long, and our country will always see his face circled by extremists. Matt is America. Matt was surrounded by enemies on all sides, Matt didn’t cry, Matt didn’t make a deal, and Matt was murdered just because he was doing what America needed him to do. Matt paid our price. I’ll stay away from calling Matt the modern day Jesus, but Matt did something that not one of those people who question the war are willing to do. He joined the Army willingly, he gave his time, he gave his blood, and yet people ask why he was worth it.