5.05.2011

Kenneth J. Fryar-Ludwig

 I've been thinking about this post for ten days now. There is so much that I want to say. I think you are one of the greatest people I have ever met. Seriously, you've set standards that people I meet in the future have to meet up to. You have changed my life in so many ways. Want me to tell you all of them? Okay. This will be a long post.
When we first got to know each other, we were sitting in my room. You asked me about my life, my past. No one has ever deliberately asked me that before. I liked that you actually wanted to really know me. And I have to say that I was baffled when you told me about your family. To be honest, I'm still kind of confused.
The first time we went for a drive, I told you I liked you. Well, I kind of told you. I made you guess. But still, that was a big thing for me, because I've never done that before. I was still really nervous around you, so I didn't say too much, but I tried. And it meant a lot that we got ice cream, because that was something you and your dad shared. Even though you probably do that with all of your friends, it still makes me feel special. After a couple hours, we sat in the Richard's parking lot and I layed my head on your shoulder. I liked that.
The night I got my appendix out, you got two of your friends to give me a blessing at one in the morning. You sat with me outside until Becca brought the car around. You came to the hospital and stayed until four in the morning. I don't know if you remember this, but when you left, you came up to me and brushed my hair away from my face and put your hand on my forehead. Just that gesture meant so much to me.
You've told me a lot of things about your past that you don't like to share. I makes me feel good to know that you trust me enough to tell me those things.
Remember when we all went to the chocolate exhibit in Old Main and then you and I went to the art museum? I kept the hat from the chocolate thing. And I still have the pictures from the art museum.
When we went to Ari's concert, you held my hand. I liked that because it was in public, and I know how much you don't like PDA. So that was really nice.
It really meant a lot to me how much you looked after me after I got surgery. I know I was really loopy on Lortab, but you took care of me. I didn't know how to say thank you while I was on drugs, so I'm saying thank you now.
I loved when you and Andrew hung out with Whitni and I over Spring Break. I also loved that you saw how ridiculously dramatic my family is, yet you didn't run away screaming. Thank goodness for that.
Remember the sticky notes you wrote to me and Becca a long time ago? I taped mine on my mirror so that whenever I see it, I can feel happy. It worked.
When you asked me to look after you when you got your wisdom teeth out, I didn't hesitate to say yes. Partly because I wanted to see how you would act on drugs, but mostly because I missed you and I wanted to see you. Also because I wanted to return the favor. Let me just say that you tell some interesting stories when you're half asleep and high.
It's the night before I go home for the summer, and it's finally starting to sink in that I won't see you at the Junction or the Marketplace anymore. I won't see you walking around campus. I can't ask you to come see me, and I can't walk across the lawn to come see you. There has been so many times when I just wanted someone to really talk to, but I decided not to call you. Now I wish that I had.
You brought me flowers and a teddy bear today. That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. It was the best surprise ever. You might think that in some ways getting me a teddy bear was a douche bag move, but I don't think it is. I never will think it is, either. I loved it. Thank you for making my last day here so wonderful.
I hope we're able to see each other this summer before we both go our separate ways. How about if we hang out this summer, I'll sing for you, since I still haven't done that. If not, I know I'll see you eventually, before you go on your mission.
I miss you already, Kenny.

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