A Life Passed Down
By Benji Sirota
I moved my arm across my paper, intricately mapping out proportions and detail. I held a fineliner pen in my hand, the one that functions like a thin marker. With my left hand I took a strawberry out of a bowl and popped it in my mouth, then kicked the wall next to my desk so my chair rolled a couple feet away from my paper. I tilted my head and observed my drawing. It was off again. Suddenly a knock sounded on my door. I stuck my legs out and rolled my chair over. “Welp, that’s a first,” I said as I opened the door.
My mom and dad were standing outside, “What’s up?” I asked.
“Hey, um, we need to talk,” my mom said.
“Um, ok, one sec. Am I in trouble?” I asked.
“No, no. You’re fine,” my mom responded. “We can sit on the porch.”
I walked out of my room with my parents. “We need to talk,” was code for something bad. I trudged over, hoping that nothing terrible happened, and sat down on a chair. They had serious faces which made me even more anxious. My mom sighed. Oh no. A sigh is the one other code for something bad. She opened her mouth to speak. “Dylan passed away this summer.”
I sat in disbelief. I repeated the words in my head, hoping that I had heard something wrong. My throat grew heavy and I could feel water piling up in my eyes. I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t. All the things. All the things that I should have done, the time I should have spent. Gone.
My parents rubbed my back, and I sat there silent, staring off into the distance, “I–” I couldn’t speak. All I could think of was him and how bright and nice he was. I felt regret for not spending time with him, for not learning python with him like I promised. All I wanted to do was talk with him, or be with him. I started thinking about the time I spent with him, making an escape room, and mountain biking. I couldn’t believe it. I thought of the time we first met, when my cousin Nico had him over at his house, we played in the snow and made a fort. A year later, I saw him online at Synapse, and we started working together. Tears slid down my face and dropped on my lap. I felt helpless and I didn’t know what to do. Dylan was gone.
I hid in my room. It felt like the safest place to be. I didn’t want to talk or socialize; I needed space. It had been about 2 months since I found out what happened. We had come home from the memorial two days ago and all I could think of was Dylan. I learned more about Dylan and his life and I was able to share my feelings with everyone else but I still felt horrible, and I missed him terribly. My parents were supportive and understood me, but it still didn’t change the fact that Dylan was gone. There were tears caked on my face and on my pillow. There was a click from my door and it quietly rolled open. My dad walked into my room and stood near the doorway for a few seconds. “Hey buddy, do you want to go on a walk with me? You’ll feel better.”
I looked up and slowly nodded my head. Fresh air would be good for me. “One second,” I said quietly and sniffled.
We walked out on the street in silence. I had my hands in my hoodie and I could feel dry leaves crunching under my shoes. The air was humid and smelled of fresh foliage.
My dad spoke, “Listen, there will always be setbacks and challenges in life, but you have to work through them. Dylan was an incredible boy, absolutely astounding, and it’s important to honor and celebrate his life. He would want you to be happy and not fixate over the past and to mourn. Mourning is good and you should think about Dylan and commemorate him, but you have to go on with your life.
“Think about it this way, Dylan was passionate about everything and always radiated kindness and optimism to everyone around him. If you could take away from that and let him change how you act and be positive and kind, you would feel more at ease and fulfilled. That’s what Dylan wants, creating a life to be passed down, and making an impact in the way the people around him act.”
I thought about what my dad had said. It resonated with me. If I could learn from his life and change my ways to be more like Dylan, by being kinder, more passionate and optimistic, it would be the perfect way to honor him. A life passed down.
My friendship with Dylan is so important to my identity because it has changed me in so many ways. I have grown new passions, become more optimistic and kind, and strived to learn new things all because of my relationship with Dylan.
