Infact, growing older brought us even closer together. He confided in me about the girls that he was interested in, but he never noticed that I had yet to tell him of my crushes. Our nightly phone calls consisted of "Wow, Jenny's really pretty" and "I'm thinking about asking Maggie out, what do you think?" I would just listen with an occasional "uh-huh" trying to be the best friend that I could. Each evening after hanging up with him, a warm tear would trickle down my cheek. "I lost my chance," I woud think, "we'll never be more than just friends." I yearned to tell him that I had loved him since the first grade, but I knew that I couldn't. It would crush me if he didn't feel the same way.
Freshman year in high school his dad lost his job and the family was forced to move to New Hampshire. Of course there was always the internet and the telephone, but it wouldn't be the same as being with him. As his family pulled away in their Volvo, I remembered all of the moments that we had shared and how special he made me feel. I tried to convince myself that nothing would change, that we'd still be as close as ever. The moment he plugged his new computer in, he sent me an instant message "Hi! New Hampshire is great," he said. I didn't respond, I couldn't, it hurt too much to think that I could only see him during the summer when he came back to visit.
That summer was the most amazing of my life. We went on long sails together and he taught me everything that he knew about boats and the ocean. "I'm going to be a world class sailor," he proclaimed proudly, and I believed it. He had won every race he'd ever been in since he was 12 and no one could keep him away from the water. "Be careful," I'd tell him constantly. "I'll try not to drown," he'd retort jokingly. The only thing wrong with that summer was knowing that in another few weeks he'd have to go back to New Hampshire and I'd have to wait an entire year to see him again.
I pondered each night whether I should tell him that I had feelings for him, and always decided that I couldn't. One evening, after sitting on the beach together for hours, I decided that I had to tell him. I frantically dialed his seven digit number shaking out of pure nervousness. His mother answered, and when I told her that it was me she started sobbing. "He's gone," she cried. "Well, when will he be home I need to talk to him?" I asked her. "He isn't coming back," she shakily replied. I dropped to the floor in disbelieve as the story came out. He had gone out on his boat after I had left the beach and his boat had been capsized by enormous waves. He was dead. The person that I loved more than anyone in the world had left me before I had the chance to tell him that I loved him.
I ran out the door and started running. I didn't know where I was going, but my feet just kept moving. I ran to the playground where he had pushed me on the tire-swing time after time. I couldn't stop crying. I wondered how something like this could happen, I wondered what God was punishing me for.
If there is anything good that came from losing my best friend and my soulmate, it's that I learned to tell people when you love them. If I had told him how I felt maybe things would have turned out differently. Every year, on the day that he passed away, I drop everything and drive to New Hampshire. I spend time with his family and we talk about all of the wonderful times that we spent together. I go and visit his grave. I sit there for hours saying "I love you, I always have and I always will." No one will ever take his place, but now I know that if I fall in love again I will tell the person the minute that I know it is love.