”Where’d you go? I miss you so. Seems like it’s been forever, that you’ve been gone.”-Fort Minor
Today, June 29, Darin has been gone for six months. It feels like an eternity since I’ve spoken to my friend, heard his boisterous laugh, enjoyed his company, or even shared a motocross track with him.
There’s not a day that passes that I do not think of Darin. As a matter of fact, there have been hundreds of times—when good, funny or even bad things have happened to me—that I’ve grabbed my phone and tried to dial him up. Since Darin has been gone, I’ve really come to realize how much I valued his friendship. Often composed of endless bag sessions, our daily phone conversations really did help keep me level.
Darin was a great sounding board. Whether it was bouncing magazine story ideas off him, turning to him for advice, or even sharing secrets with him about my crazy life; I knew that I could always count on Darin to both be there for me and to never peep a word of our conversations together to others. Unless it was something that would make others laugh, that is.
Oftentimes, during our more lighthearted conversations, I would bust out ridiculous, boastful lines about my abundance of riding skills and his lack thereof. And more often than not, I’ve learned, Darin would hang up with me and phone my brother Ross immediately to share the laughs. That was Darin, to a tee. Brightening someone else’s day came second nature to him, and I’m sure that it’s not just me who feels lonelier without him.
I’ve been thinking of my friend Darin more than normal lately. Last night as I went for my nightly jog through the neighborhood, I voluntarily chose to torture myself with the “Darin” playlist on my iPod; the two songs that we used in the slideshow presented at his memorial service. Turns out I was only able to run a couple of blocks; it’s hard to exercise when you are crying—as Darin would say—”like a little bitch.”
When I got back to the house and sat at my desk, I looked at the calendar on the wall and realized that it was indeed, six months to the day that Darin left us.
Today, I will think of Darin every time that I smile or enjoy a laugh. Neither are the same without him, but both remind me of my friend with whom I have shared so many.