Life Without You
a collaboration and guest entry by Gramm
August 25, 2003
He was my best friend, and he was always there even when I moved away. In
the fall of 1981, I began 7th grade while living in Canada. In Canada, 7th
grade is the first year of junior high school – the first year where I had a
locker, a homeroom, and met kids who didn’t live in my little neighborhood.
He and I, along with about eight other 7th-grade students had been assigned
homeroom together in Class 205 along with another twenty students who were
either in the 8th or 9th grades. Our homeroom teacher was a crazy old
science teacher who originally hailed from a far eastern country. He had
a thick accent, which sometimes made it difficult to understand him, and he
was terrifically old fashioned.
Every morning before classes began we gathered in homeroom to hear announcements and other administrative matters.
Additionally, once a week everybody in school met for one period of homeroom
so we could do homework or the like. Since our homeroom teacher was old
fashioned, Room 205 didn’t have the opportunity to put one’s head down in
homeroom when you were done with your homework like some of the other
classes. We either did homework or we read from his collection of Reader’s
Digests from the (I’m not kidding) 1950’s and 1960’s.
Martin and I came from different elementary schools so we didn’t know each
other when we started junior high, but we happened to end up with a number
of the same core classes. Martin and I very quickly became fast friends.
My 7th grade year was, along with everyone else, a year of tremendous
transition. Many of the friends I had from elementary school turned to
drugs, drinking and smoking – I didn’t have any interest in that. While
they respected that and didn’t force me to choose between being friends and
doing what they did, we began to have less in common. Meeting Martin was
either fate or fortuitous timing.
We had similar interests in sports, girls, music, and everything else. We
were inseparable for the next three years. I was living in Canada because my
dad had followed his job there back in 1975 when I was just 5. I always
knew I was American and we would move back someday -- still, I wasn’t prepared for
it when my dad announced in January of 1984 we would be moving to Houston at the end of the school year. I had to leave my best friend.
We lived
it up those last few months – spending every available second together. I
remember making my parents take me to his house just before we left
that morning so I could say good-bye. We were 14 and too cool for school
but we hugged and cried like babies.
I initially hated my little suburb corner of Houston. I didn’t have any
friends – not like Martin anyway. He kept me sane and supported me
until I came to tolerate and eventually love Texas. Before e-mail, we wrote
actual letters. We made tapes of music that we were listening to for each
other and called each other as often as our parents would allow. Martin
came to visit me that next summer and I went to visit him the summer after
that. After we graduated high school, I went off to college and he did the
same. After a year, he decided to put college on hold and joined the
Canadian Air Force to pursue a love he had for flying.
The next four years
were harder on us than we wanted – other things pulled us apart. The
letters grew further apart but we never lost each other. He called me one
night from Quebec just to hear an English speaking voice since he had been
put in a 100% French immersion program to hone his bilingual skills – we
talked for two hours.
Martin and I always knew we were there for each other. I told him of my
girlfriend and he told me of his. He had been transferred to Saskatchewan
for further training in the Canadian jet fighter program – I guess they
figured that if you were going to crash, might as well be in Saskatchewan
where you would most likely just scorch a piece of the prairie and some
farmer’s wheat field. It was there he met his fiancée - and there where he
learned that a medical condition left him unable to execute all the
necessary maneuvers for a jet fighter pilot. Given a choice of hauling
cargo for the rest of his military career or a medical discharge, he chose
discharge... mostly, I think, for his fiancée – so she wouldn’t have to follow him
around the country or the world on remote assignments.
We both got married young in 1992 – he was in my wedding party and I was in
his. I rearranged my final exam schedule so I could fly from Austin to
Houston to Denver to Bismarck to Minot and then drove almost four hours into Saskatchewan
so I could stand for him at his wedding; I wouldn’t have done it any other
way. We were both so excited and looked forward to what the next few years
would bring. We were beginning our lives as “adults.” My life took me back
to Texas for my college graduation and then to Colorado for my first job.
I worked my tail off that first year I was out of school – I thought that
was how it was supposed to be. Martin had returned to where we grew up and
was working hard too. He and I spoke more often with school and the
military not pulling on us all the time. He told me he had started working
on the side - for an aerial surveying company. He took part of their crew up so they could survey huge plots of land. It let him fly again and
freed him from the drudgery that was his bank job. He hoped to get enough
work so he could go into business for himself someday.
Winter of 1992 gave way to summer 1993 and I had bought a house. I spent
most of my time working on the yard and everything else that needed my
attention. I must have been preparing for a housewarming party we were
having that Saturday in late June of 1993, and missed the call. I got the
message later in the afternoon to call Martin’s wife, Jodi. Her brother
answered, and had the task of telling me the news – Martin had been
killed the night before in a small plane crash. He had been up late in the
afternoon with a survey crew and as it is apt to do in June in southern
Alberta a bad storm blew up out of nowhere. His plane was caught in a wind
shear and he never stood a chance.
Exactly what happened next is still sort of foggy – I know I wanted to throw
up but I’m not sure if I did or not. I walked around in a daze for a good
while until I realized I was expecting party guests in just a few hours. I
dragged myself through the rest of the preparations and welcomed my guests.
My new friends learned of my old friend Martin that night and we drank in
his honor.
Getting to Southern Alberta where I grew up was prohibitively expensive via
air so on the following Tuesday afternoon I rented a car and drove the 1,100
miles for my friend’s funeral. 1,100 miles is a long way to drive by
yourself and I listened to a lot of music along the way including Life Without You
by Stevie Ray Vaughan. Life Without You was written for the loss of
his friend and supporter Charley Wirz, and originally released on "Soul to
Soul" in 1985. Like Martin, Stevie Ray was also lost in a tragic air
accident and the similarities weren’t lost on me during that long drive. I
spent hours upon hours during that trip listening to that song - crying and
mourning the loss of my best friend.
In the years since Martin’s death, I’ve found myself thinking about him a
lot. Martin was kind, loving and accepting. He was quick to laugh and
generous to a fault. Since his death, I’ve celebrated - but lost in his
absence. I’ve longed to share the joy of the birth of my daughter with
him – to introduce him to her as "Uncle Marty" knowing that he’d love her as
his own. As my marriage ended, the emptiness was all the more apparent when
I realized he wasn’t there to call and lean on.
I’ve taken a bit of comfort in the choice of cremation by Martin’s family.
Whatever your personal relationship is with God and religion, I find comfort
in knowing that no matter where I turn in this world – every tree, every
hill, every breathtaking mountain lake, a small piece of Martin is with me.
I miss you, my friend.
Ooh, ooh now baby, tell me how have you been
All lyrics are the property and copyright of their respective owners. All
lyrics are provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Life Without You (S.R. Vaughan)
We all have missed you, and the way you grin
The day is necessary, every now and then
For souls to move on, givin' life back again and again
Fly on, fly on, fly on my friend
Go on, live again, love again
Day after day, night after night
Sittin' here, singin' every minute, as the years go passing by, by, by, by
Long look in the mirror, we've come face to face
Wishing all the love we took for granted, love we have today
Life without you, all the love you passed my way
The angels have waited for you so long, now they have their way
Take your place