Losing your Roommate

Travis was my roommate at Sangamon State University in 2008. We had a lot of fun times and he was one of the best men I knew from then until now. Two years ago, I saw him for the last time when my now-wife and I came back up from St. Louis immediately after thanksgiving.

I don’t blame her for being a little suspicious of the still-worked-on construction site that Travis was using as his home at the time. But when he opened the door and shouted “Jackie Brown!” I knew that our times together in the late 2000’s were not over yet. Yet.

We went out to have some chicken skewers and IPA at a local brewery within the shadow of the old state capitol. And he was both a cad and a gentleman for every second of it. My wife was enchanted, and I was overjoyed to have her around a man who really knew the dark underbelly of my early adult life. We laughed and laughed.

Two days ago, my friend Jake called. They had worked together on the Model Illinois Government, and he had been close with a lot of his colleagues. He informed me that Travis had gone the way we will all go and it floored me.

I knew that he had trouble with his blood sugar, but this seemed like the kind of thing that happened to old men, like my father, men who had plenty of years on earth. Not another boy my age. We don’t get to buy our time on Earth, but 31 is far too young to see a man in his grave.

I miss him terribly and I know that he waits for us somewhere down the road. Love you buddy; it’s been a long, strange road. And I’ll see you at the end of it.