Something Special by Someone Special

Tonight I'm going to share someone else's blog with you. The following was written by my son Brad's girlfriend, Shelby. Shelby has become part of our family over the past several months. She put in words, better than most of us could, the feelings we have all had from time to time in our lives. Shelby wrote this as her final and it has been posted on murmurnews.blogspot.com. The Murmur is the student newspaper at Waterford Kettering High School.

Grab some tissues and soak in the following. We love you, Shelby!

So Long, Farewell, Aufweidersehen, Goodnight

By Shelby Netschke

It's never easy saying goodbye. I guess we get attached to things and used to things, change just throws everything off balance and we don't welcome it with open arms.

But, saying a real goodbye isn't just a simple "later," when you leave to go to the grocery store. The goodbyes that hit home are the ones said to a loved one who is slowly slipping into a sleep they won't wake up from, or to your brother who is going on a no-return mission to Mars. A real goodbye is something more serious, like that. But, it could mean just about anything, really.

I'm talking about the goodbye that you know is coming. It lingers over you like a black storm cloud. It follows you with every footstep. It's always there, hiding in the shadows, ready to jump out at you, never letting you forget that it's there.

Those are the worst kind of goodbyes. You know they are coming all along. But, once you get to that point, it catches you off guard and in a loss for words, overwhelmed and stubbornly trying not to accept this slight change in your life, tears spill over and drown you in self-pity.

I had to say one of these goodbyes just the other day. I knew it was coming for months, but reality didn't sink in until a few days before it happened.

Details are not important; you and I aren't on a personal level yet. But, basically a friend left. He will be gone for a few months, be home for a few days, and then I don't really know when I, or his family, will see him next.

"It's just boot camp," they say. "His life isn't in danger. . ." yet. And "It isn't like he's dying. I know this, and his family knows this, but saying that everything is going to be okay doesn't make it so.

I didn't cry for attention, or because he is the most significant person who has ever stepped foot into my life. I cried because he was leaving the life he has always known. I cried for his family. I cried for his brother, who has to walk by his empty room every morning. I cried because I loved him like a brother, and I don't think he knows that. I cried for that little empty feeling that will be in our group of friends now that he isn't around. I did not cry for his girlfriend. I cried because he was finally fulfilling his dreams, and I couldn't be happier for him.

It's like they say, (well, I don't know who "they" are. . .) you don't realize how much someone means to you until they're gone. I do disagree with this, because if they mean something to you, you already know that, and their absence shouldn't make it clear.

I think what it really is, is that you don't realize how much people affect your life until they suddenly dip out of it, and not knowing what's next or what will happen when they are gone scares people.

I don't think the best cure is a clean break, because that's just an attempt to forget how great they were. I think the best medicine is to love your friends, write them, shed a little tear when you miss them, and remind them that they are awesome and that you will never forget them.

I'll miss you Tommy Boy. Have fun chasing your dreams. We will all write you, I promise.

And with that, Good Night and God Bless! Love you, Bud!