The Longest Distance Relationship

When you first meet someone, you get a strange feeling inside, right? Well, I got the best feeling when I first met a young boy named Aaron. We met when we were in fifth grade at Tropic Isles Elementary School in North Fort Myers, Florida. We became very close friends during the second quarter of fifth grade; a couple weeks before his parents transferred him to Gulf Elementary for the end of second quarter and for second semester. So, we decided to exchange telephone numbers, and to keep in very close contact with each other. We started going out on May 15, 1998. That was the beginning of a wonderful, fun-filled relationship. When we were about to go into middle school, we found out we were going our separate ways once again. He ended up going to Gulf Middle, and I went to Trafalgar Middle. We continued "going out" although we couldn't see each other every single day while we were in school. We enjoyed each other's company and loved each other with all our hearts, caring for each other with what seemed to be an everlasting love. On March 15, 2000-2 months before our 2-year anniversary-Aaron broke terrible news to me. He said that he and his parents are moving to Berlin, Germany on the 23rd. I was, as most people would be, devastated. He then proceeded to tell me that, although he would be living in Germany now, he still wanted us to be considered "together" or "a couple". I was ecstatic that he still loved me, and wanted to keep in contact, no matter how far apart we were. So, he and I exchanged e-mail addresses and home addresses so that we could stay in close contact with each other. I liked the fact that we were still considered "together" although we were so far apart from each other. We sent e-mails to each other almost every single day. He told me how much he missed me, and how beautiful Germany was. He wanted me to come there and live with him when we were older. We were talking about the future, and what it has in store for us when we are in high school and college. I thought we would never, ever be apart, but I was wrong, horribly wrong. On April 25, 2000, a day after his birthday, I got a letter from his parents, Jean and Andy. The letter explained a horrifying tragedy that recently happened in their three-person family. Aaron had died on April 23, 2000-Easter day-a day before his birthday. I bet you are wondering how this tragedy happened. I was too, and Aaron's parents explained it "in depth", if you will, to me through an e-mail they sent on the 25th, the day I received word that he died. In this e-mail, they detailed that he had been taking a walk, as normal, that cool, blissful morning. It was a serene Easter full of spring colors and smells. He was walking down the sidewalk of his abnormally quiet, empty street. He never thought what happened next would have ever happened to him, or anyone he knew. As he was minding his own business, probably singing a song in his head and just walking peacefully, a white car skidded off the road and smashed into him. He tried desperately to jump out of the way, but he was seconds too late. Aaron, when he was hit, was thrown backwards into a large oak tree. Police, paramedics, cars, neighbors, and his parents were gathered all around him. He was unconscious at the time, but the paramedics were finally able to bring him back long enough for his parents to hold his hand and say "we love you." The paramedics rushed him to the hospital by ambulance, where he then slipped into a coma for approximately forty-five minutes. He came out of the coma for about twenty minutes and died shortly after. In that short span of twenty minutes, his parents were in the hospital room holding his hand. He began to speak, and the words that came out of his mouth were: "Tell Jen please.that's the one thing I want you to do for me.please, tell her I love her, and will never leave her side." He then let go of his parent's hands, and died. Thus far, his promise has not been broken. He's still by my side and will be for eternity. I was deeply affected by this incident, especially since there was not a funeral, and I had no way of saying good-bye. His parents decided to cremate him and toss his remains into the ocean. Although I did not get to say good-bye, I know his parents did for me, in that hospital room, during his last twenty minutes of life. Those last twenty minutes, by what his parents said, were very, very sad and that I would not have wanted to see him like that. They said that he was very mutilated, in terms of his face, arms, and legs. He did not look like Aaron, and they could not believe it was him until those gut-wrenching words came out of his mouth like a rainbow after a rain storm. Later, after the accident was fully investigated, I was informed that the driver who hit him was drunk. He was not arrested because, after he hit Aaron, he fled the scene and continued driving down what seemed to be an endless road. They finally caught him after he got in an accident that he was badly hurt in-he ran a red light, and as far as they know, crashed head- on into another car. Although this experience was horrifying, I learned a lot from it. I no longer fear death, I look at every new day with a big, bright smile and a new zest for the life I was given. Aaron had this zest for life.and I think that that zest somehow transferred into me as though I now have his spirit in me. I have also begun telling all of my friends about Aaron and how he was killed. Doing this kind of helps me get through it easier because I can get the support I need to go on in my life without him by my side. I have also been trying to convince people not to drink and drive because of the consequences that it brings. Drinking and driving can lead to accidents, and a lot of times, drinking and driving leads to fatalities-not just of pedestrians, but a lot of times of the driver or passengers in the car of that drunk driver. As April 23, 2003 is coming near, I think of Aaron increasingly. It will be three years since Aaron died, but as of right now, he has not left my heart or my mind, and never will, as I will never leave his.