Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ya (Reflections Part II)

You really don't know what you have until it's gone. Or, in this case, who. And I never had him. I didn't know him. But I really wished that I had.

Strange to say about the person whose funeral you're attending, isn't it? I wish I'd known him. Based on what I learned about him at his funeral, I wish I'd known him. I really am struggling with the ironic and, possibly, inappropriate thought that I'm sorry I didn't know him. Is that dumb? Perhaps.

In some ways, obviously, I know him. He was my friend's oldest brother. He was an example of the brilliance that alumni of our school share. Well, I knew of him.

I learned today, however, we had a lot in common, and I really would have liked to have known him in life. I know people like him. I am in the process of "revamping" the friends I have in my life - upgrading, in a sense, and he's the type of person who is near the definition of who I am looking to befriend. (I know, this must be as strange a blog entry to be reading as it is for me to be writing, let alone to be thinking. At least we share that.)

In some ways, I know him without knowing him, too. There was a moment, today, as I was scanning the attendees at the funeral for familiar faces when I saw two faces, well, not faces, backs, that were familiar but did not belong. Two men in uniform. But not just any uniform. Not just any military uniform. A specific branch of the military. A branch most people wouldn't recognize. But I knew it immediately. Those blues are distinctive to me. And, as my wandering mind referenced the person I associate with that uniform, the words describing the deceased started to ring way too familiar.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a wee bit overwhelmed with the connections my clearly damaged synapses were making. Neurological sparks were flying, and I closed my eyes and ran through an exercise. I didn't listen to the specific name. I listened to the stories. I kept shaking my head in disbelief.

Whose funeral am I at, right now? Because, except for the age, the company he worked for, etc, I had the distinct feeling I was at someone else's funeral. Who, ironically, should have been attending someone else's funeral today. (Which makes this moment even weirder, but thus I digress.) I was listening to eulogies for one person, that would fit another like a glove. I kept trying to shake it off, thinking, "Look, you're just making up these connections. You just want these words, these revering stories to fit this other person. Stop it, you're being stupid." I'd shake it off, mentally, and then I'd listen the the eulogy.

And it would happen again.

It was the strangest thing.

Was it because Jonathan was the kind of person that I wanted to get to know because I'd already gotten to know someone like him? And what I was hearing reminded me of the other person? Or did these two have a ridiculous amount of commonality?

Either way, the net result was the same. I was left terribly sorry I didn't know Jonathan in life. But clear that I might be able to get to know him, through his family, in death, while helping do what he wanted - to be remembered for his zest for life, appreciation for unconventional challenges, and generosity. I may have a venue for his spirit to live on to share.

And I was left with an even greater appreciation for someone else. Because I realized I already heard his eulogy today. There is no need for me to hear it a second time. Because I've lost him once, I kind of lost him again today. And I don't want to lose him once more.