Getting Lost

I wish my last message to Phil was some profound statement. Communicating my appreciation for his friendship, the influence of his annoyingly idealistic mindset on my perspective, and admiration for his unshakable values and priorities.

But instead, after not hearing from him for a week or two in an on-going group chat, I try to break the ice with a throw back to his made-up Taco Bell item that he once attempted to order - A chimi-quesorrito. Like a chimi queso burrito. It's not really that far-fetched for Taco Bell and I'd be unfazed if I pulled up to the drive through and saw a Chimi-quesorrito $5 Box. I'd probably even order it.

Rather than an expected response from Phil, his father instead replied on Phil's phone and informed us that Phil likely didn't have much time left. This reply hit me like a bucket of cold water. I'd known Phil's condition was poor, but I assumed he had been steadily pulling himself along, like he had been for months. He had been a man in an extremely tough situation but continued to push himself forward. He had been quiet for a couple weeks in our group chat, but I had simply attributed that to his poor response habits.

I took the rest of the day off from work after getting blindsided with that update. I wasn't going to be able to focus anyway. Instead, I drove over to Seymour Smith Park and walked the frisbee golf course that we had walked so many times with the full group of roommates. But just me this time.

A few short days later, July 29, 2020, Phil's battle with lymphoma ended. Phil was never in a condition for one more call. I took the remainder of the day off from work once again when I received the news from Phil's dad. This time I hopped on my bicycle and went on a 40-mile ride. I had broken 30 miles only a handful of times previously and had never sniffed 40. I have never been close to 40-miles since. My legs and body were numb. I don't drink alcohol or use drugs, but I didn't want to feel a thing in that moment and utter physical exhaustion was my best option.

Phil was buried on Wednesday, August 5th, 2020, in Huntimer, South Dakota. A group of his old roommates drove up together from Omaha and Kansas City to pay our respects. His death still hadn't fully sunk. It felt like he was just being slow in replying to our messages, as normal. It didn't completely become real until walking into the church in the middle of South Dakota farmland and seeing Phil's photos, trophies, and cherished possessions sitting in the foyer. I could see Phil in the casket up front, surrounded by his family. But I couldn't walk up to it to see him one last time. I'd think about it, but my feet wouldn't move. It made it real. It made me sick.

We stayed for the funeral service and burial. Phil would have appreciated all the typical Catholic processional elements. He was a traditionalist. But we left after the burial, before the lunch and interacting with his family very much. We had a 3-hour drive back to Omaha and an additional 3-hour drive for the guys from Kansas City to do. I felt guilty about not staying longer, but mentally and emotionally I was depleted, and wasn't going to argue about getting away from there.

The worst part of grief is coming to terms with regrets. And I have many.

Being a surface-level friend is easy. Say "Hi" or give a quick little wave when you see them. Engage in small talk for a few minutes when it conveniently fits in your schedule. Or even hang out occasionally just because you have nothing better to do at that time. See the occasional post on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or Snapchat and get that sense of "We're caught up. I know what they're up to." It's simple, comfortable, and easy.

Real friendship though... Cutting through the surface and understanding what makes people tick. Their likes and dislikes, passions and hatreds. How do their perceive their surroundings and what experiences have shaped their outlook on life? What are they trying to achieve in life? Why are their goals important to them? What gives them energy and spurs them on? What tears them down? Who is important to them? Establishing that level of respect where you can disagree and argue, but understand that you still value each other's opinions and care for each other's well-being at the end of the day. Pushing one another to accomplish their goals and supporting them along the way. That's meaningful, uplifting, and difficult.

But that's the real stuff. It requires intentionality. It requires time. It's a continuous, never-ending process.

My biggest regret is all the times I took the easy route. All the times I only hung out with Phil when it was something I wanted to do. All the times I prioritized schoolwork, chores, or busy work over spending more time with friends. All the times I closed the door to my room while the other guys were hanging out in the in living room. All the times I just said "no" because I just didn't feel it. Like the road trips Phil pitched to go see mountains or ride the rollercoasters at Cedar Point. Like the random activities to get out of the Scott Hall dorms or our bubble at the 67th and Pine house. and instead go to events in Omaha or the surrounding area.

Worst of all are all the times I was physically there, but mentally checked out because I just wasn't interested in the moment. Those times where I considered my desires as more important than the passions of others and I would disengage, like a pouting child. When I would actively attempt to shut down conversations on deeper topics that I found boring, invasive, or too idealistic to be practical. When I would internally discredit the things he spoke about since I thought his approach to life was a bit too weird and outside the norm. Looking back at all the times and realizing, "man, I was a terrible friend." Pausing for a moment to look at life now and realize, "man, I still do the same things."

That's the thought that chills me to the bone when it hits. All my energy is sapped away in an instant. A bright-eyed smile shifts into a perturbed blank-stare. I missed so many opportunities to converse with Phil. His different views and approaches to life would rub me the wrong way, and I often made it my mission to shoot down his idealistic thoughts as being unrealistic. I perceived many of his ideas as childish and naïve. His unhurried, seemingly lackadaisical approach went against the grain of my Midwestern "work as hard as you can in all that you do" mindset. His indifference for school that grew each year, opposed to my growing mental investment in college. The way he minimized the importance of jobs and careers. I perceived it as an attack on the value of good work. What I always interpreted as Phil misunderstanding how the world functions, to the level of personal irresponsibility in Phil's life, were instead Phil living out his personal values. Faith, family, and friends came first in his life, and he believed that everything else wasn't important and it would take care of itself. Aspects of his philosophy eventually rubbed off on me and helped me find the beauty and importance in considering the ideal, even if it's unattainable. In the end, he was firmly rooted in his values, and it was mine that were subtly shifted over time.

Sometimes I get frustrated that Phil didn't let us know how he was really doing during his final months in the clinic. He had a couple scary moments, like when the chemo caused a dangerously high fever, resulting in him becoming delirious and staying in the hospital for several nights. But he wouldn't tell us about the roughest moments until he had recovered. Or wouldn't tell us at all. I know this was just a byproduct of Phil's optimistic outlook on life. He never wanted to talk about the negative aspects of his life. He would rather keep looking ahead and not concern people with the past. Every time I get frustrated with the lack of transparency, I realize I have done the same thing and likely would if I was in his shoes too. When you're fighting to get through the day, day after day, week after week, and every piece of good news you receive is immediately cancelled out by two, three, or four pieces of bad news, I think you reach the point where you just want to dwell on the good and forget about the bad. You don't want to take a full stock of the problems because that mountain buries your hope that recovery is attainable. And you don't want to wear down your friends with extra burdens that they don't need to carry. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

But I realize that I'm more frustrated with myself. I'm frustrated by all those days where I knew I should reach out to Phil and set up another video call, but just didn't after being tired from a long day of work. Before I knew it, a couple days would turn into a week or two before we'd chat again. Those spells were way too long in between talking to a friend, someone who is trying to find any and all ways to fill up time while stuck alone in a bed, trying to maintain hope and optimism. It sometimes feels like he spent so much time trying to challenge those around him to reconsider their priorities, but in the end, even after spending years hanging out with him, my priorities still weren't where they should be. It took a message answered by his father for that to sink in.

At this point I want to apologize to all the people who have seen me up close and personal in 2020 and 2021. I've had times where I was fully focused, energetic, and engaged. But many other times where I'd disappear, ignore texts or emails, or just do the bare minimum to be a "friend" without putting in any real effort. I would zone out and wish I was in another place and another time. It's easy to get lost when life gets dark. But I appreciate everyone that attempted to share some light along the journey.

Memories

So many incredible memories. I've already forgotten about so many great times and conversations; I don't want to forget more.

• The countless hours frisbee golfing during the Frolf Friday tradition in college. Losing to Phil week after week after week. Truth be told, I've generally avoided Seymour Smith Park since his death.

• The time Phil tried teaching me how to golf at Jim Ager in Lincoln. I had one incredible drive that landed closer to the whole than Phil's. But I also lost several golf balls that day too.

• Phil stopping by unannounced with his girlfriend at my parent's house in Lincoln during the summer I was staying at home while interning in town there. But, I was out at a Bible study that night and missed them. He just really enjoyed surprising people with his presence.

• Buying bricks from Lowes and building a firepit in the backyard at the house. I didn't use it too much, but Phil made good use out of it. Probably a little too much while getting some fires a bit too high.

• All the late nights Phil, Caleb, Marcus, and I would play FIFA (our motto was "Play til we win, then play til we lose") on the Xbox, NFL Street 2 and Guitar Hero on the PS2, Soccer Physics online, and the post-midnight Taco Bell runs. I usually avoided these runs first semester freshman year due to a 8:30 morning class several days a week, but relented by second semester.

• Always losing to Phil in the Marble Game, Euchre, and any other card game he taught us.

• Jamming to a playlist specifically curated with all the artists and songs that Phil found annoying.

• Going to as many UNO soccer games as we could. Fun fact: Phil once bought a flag that he thought looked cool during his study abroad in Spain. It was a Spanish flag with an eagle on the front. Phil once brought this flag to wave around at a game. During the game, some exchange students walked up to Phil, laughing and giggling, and explained that the eagle-decorated flag was associated with the Spanish government connected with Hitler's Germany during WWII. Phil's eyes bulged realizing the fascist connections to his flag. Safe to say, that flag wasn't brought out again.

• The KC road trips we made to watch Sporting KC or the US men's national team play a soccer match, hit up Worlds of Fun, play some foot golf, take swings at Top Golf, and chow down Q-39.

• Always making fun of his weakness for nostalgia. His love for An American Tail: Fievel Goes West and Air Bud were unmatched. Phil had this perception where everything was better when he was a child and he put things from his childhood up on an untouchable pedestal.

• Taping down a red solo cup outside the dorm room and putting down the length of the hallway.

• Working sixteen hour days serving barbeque, candy, and lots and lots of beer at the Grassroots festival in Council Bluffs, while watching adults get drunk and adolescents get high. And coming out of the weekend with a trunk filled with Monster, Five Hour Energy, Mountain Dew, and Coke.

• Racing down the slopes at Keystone, Colorado.

• Sitting in the public square in Diocletian's Palace in Split, Croatia at night, listening to street performers sing and play guitar, while Phil and Marcus enjoyed some Croatian brewed liquor.

• Debating with him on the prestigious, or not-so-prestigious history of the Catholic church, such as the Crusades.

• Spinning up some video calls with Phil, Marcus, Scott, and Caleb during his time in the clinic. Playing Minecraft with them for hours while we just kept our video calls going.

• Trying to figure out why Phil would drop his full ride scholarship to move over to the newly built Newman Center. Why he intentionally took a fifth year of high school. Why he wanted to triple major in Computer Science, Math, and Spanish, but likely not use them while planning to make his career at a pro-life non-profit organization.

Friendships like that don't come around very often. Different interests, different goals, different philosophies, but trying to learn how to live out the same values. Phil saw the world in a very different way. He pushed back against cultural norms and was content swimming against the current. He saw a broken, sinful world and tried to play his part to bring the love of God to those around him. I'm beyond grateful God placed friends like that in my life.