It’s been five years since Sean passed away. The initial pain has faded a bit since then, but the sadness is still there and to some extent always will be. While riding the other day I was thinking of Sean, and wanted to share my thoughts.

I met Sean my first day of high school - we lived fairly close to each other, so we rode on the bus together for the 40 minute ride out to Walsh. I still remember that day - Sean with a goofy grin on his face (to be honest, Sean had that grin most of the time) introducing himself to me. I don’t remember who brought it up, but within a few minutes we were talking (and probably arguing) about music. Little did I know at the time that I had just met one of my best friends.

Over the next four years we spent a huge amount of time together. We skied together in the winter at Brandywine; we’d walk around the area malls together in the time-honored teen ritual of “just hanging out”; we’d drive around like a couple of morons in 60 degree temperature with the top down on his mother’s Cavalier convertable; and we’d spend countless hours going to area music stores and playing with all the gear we couldn’t afford.

When we were seniors, we worked a landscaping job together, driving to West Akron every weekend in a boat of a car that would hold two full size push mowers in the back. Sean would pilot this monstrosity while eating his hotcakes and sausage from McDonalds. He always insisted that he was perfectly safe doing this; I just closed my eyes and tried to figure out who was the patron saint of people forced to ride in cars with insane drivers.

Most of the movies I saw in high school I saw with Sean - either at his house on his parent’s new laserdisc player, or at the local theatre. Sean loved Disney movies. We waited in line to see The Little Mermaid the first day it was out - I’ll never forget the incongruous sight of 6 foot tall Sean in his 4-year letterman jacket standing in crowd of parents and small children at the ticket booth. I think Sean was more excited than some of the kids, but that was just how Sean was.

Then there was the band - the famous (infamous? utterly forgettable?) Psychotic Pineapples. If there was one thing that strained our friendship that was it. It probably doesn’t come as any sort of surprise, but musicians can be a pain in the ass. Let me tell you, we were no exception to the rule (or at least I wasn’t). Egotistical and self-aborbed are the words I’m thinking of here, but my guess is that it’s part and parcel of the whole artistic temperament thing. I’m sure that Ug the caveman had some harsh words (or at least harsh gurgles and grunts) regarding Og’s inability to hit the rocks together correctly.

Sean and I had some very definite opinions on what we should play (as did the rest of the band). Unfortunately, it seemed like we were all going in different directions, with Sean and I seeming to gravitate to the two farthest poles. That resulted in quite a bit of bitching back and forth, any number of arguments, and practices where we would just glare at each other between songs. Just when things seemed to be their worst, Sean showed up on my doorstep unannounced and we talked about what had happened, how it was pretty damn stupid, and it really didn’t matter in the overall scheme of things. Sean was like that.

After high school ended, we went our separate ways. He went to Cincinnati for school, and I went to Kent. We still talked when we could - I remember him visiting me in Kent a few times, and we did manage to get together to ski at Boston Mills once in the winter. I saw him in Cincinnati when I tagged along with some friends on a trip. It became an impromptu Pineapples reunion, since Mark and Jeff were down there as well. In true Sean fashion he wanted to see the Ice Capades. Unfortunately, they weren’t performing that night so instead we went out to see the forgettable movie Eve of Destruction.

After I graduated I went over a year without hearing from him. It was during one of the lowest points of a very bad year that he called me. I can’t remember how it all worked out, but I was in Alameda, CA teaching a class and I was passed a note to call a number a didn’t recognize. No name. Just a number. I call the number and Sean answers.

I spent 15 minutes giving him my sob story about how much I hated my job, and how much my life sucked because of said job. He listened to me rant, gave me suggestions, told me that things would get better. Finally my dumb ass asks how he is doing and he tells me that he recently had major surgery to remove a tumor from around his spine. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like such a whiny bitch more in my life than at that exact moment. I remember telling him just that and him shrugging it off - I can still hear him telling me that “don’t worry Jas, everything’s fine now.” That perspective on life, well that was pure Sean.

The last time I saw Sean was during our class reunion. I almost didn’t go - I had to leave for a business trip on Sunday, so I was going to skip the Saturday gathering. Once again, though, a call out of the blue from Sean convinced me to at least come down for a few hours on Friday. So Beth and I did, and we spent most of the evening with Sean. When we finally left, I gave him a hug (You know, that really manly hug. Don’t want to feed into any Walsh Jesuit myths here.) and thanked him for talking me into coming down. He just smiled and told me we’d get together again soon.

We talked every now and then via email over the next year, but we never managed to find time to get together. I was traveling to San Diego every few weeks and had a toddler at home, and he was going to China and working ridiculously hard at his job. I guess I just always took for granted the fact that once things got more “normal” we’d get together.

And then he was gone.

I learned quite a bit from Sean over the years, and I’ve tried to learn something from his death as well. When I start getting upset about something stupid, or I start to worry and fret over things I try and pull back and put things into perspective. I try and appreciate what I have more than I dwell on what I don’t. Above all, I strive to treat the people in my life with the same dignity, respect, and care that Sean treated the people in his life with.

I’ve written a lot here, but no matter how much I write it could never fully do Sean justice. My feelings on the subject are much easier to distill down, and can easily be stated in four simple words.

I miss you, Sean.