Looking back, it’s like I’m watching a movie.
You’re flying down Chicken City Road, in your purple sundress that was too short but your mom was OK with you wearing it if you had shorts underneath, and you’re riding on the handlebars, clenching for dear life but not really because you’ve known this island like my you know the freckles on your arm, every hot spot that gets itchy in the sun, how you naturally pop my elbow hoping to look like a cool girl. But Travis knew this island more than memory. It was ingrained in who he was.
And together you soared through the quiet; a so beautiful and so silent quiet that it makes your ears ring but also makes your heart buzz and you think, “wow, this what it’s like to be in nature and what they have all written about and what PBS makes shows about it.”
And then you pull up to the middle school, which in all of your years coming here, you never really considered kids going to school, let alone being awkward middle schoolers here, living their worst fears in this beautiful escape that played host every summer, where you’re drenched in soft serve and SPF 45 and that square pizza from the corner restaurant and that feeling that everything is right when you are here because you are sunkissed and young and still so irresponsible. And then you grab a hand and scrape your knees a little bit - once again because your dress is too short - on the lip of the roof and you’re standing there, on top of the island. And you’re hearing a story about going to the nurse pretending to have asthma because that’s just who Travis was and what he did. And you’re on top of being 17 and your whole life in front of you and on top of clarity and purity and beauty and fear and strength. And you breathe the quiet, sea salt air in and think “I have 3 more days on vacation” and “my life is so good and I am the prettiest girl that there ever was” because selfishly that was your deepest fear and desire then. And you smile so all of your dimples show and your humid curled hair shakes as you just dance around on the top of the world, because this - this is the moment the heroes write and sing and make movies about - and you’re not scared to be with a strange boy who’s eyes twitch - because for once in your 17 years, you are calm and feel safe which is what you’ve always wanted. And his soul is so peaceful, you just know he is OK and you shouldn’t be worried. That you will forever love this boy as your best friend because of this magical moment. Your mom’s favorite song is Melt With You and you understand that if you could pinpoint that feeling to a time in your life, it would be this moment. But then Drops of Jupiter comes to mind because it feels like flying over the stars whenever you feel it. And the feeling lasts forever and then you scramble down onto the AC unit with gravel stuck in your knees and you ride on the handlebars through the trees and back to your little house past Ocean Avenue and you feel your lungs breathe and you know that you’ve felt life and that you’re felt true kindness and true love and you’ll always carry this movie moment in your life. And you didn’t realize you had to. Because it was what you had right now and it would still be magic next year. Because you were young and this place was magic and you felt it and magic like that doesn’t ever not last. You felt you had to remember this moment for the magic of what it was; not because it was “one of the last moments” or the moment who showed you who he was.
Your island feelings were so solid: so untouchable. So marked by beauty and innocence in that perpetual golden hour that they couldn’t be touched by pain.
Nothing bad could happen on this island. On this paradise that filled my Augusts with sunburn and too much time together in a small space and that salty marshy smell. On a place that was kind of like Hollywood almost and The Locals were celebrities because the sand and sun were intertwined into their DNA and they got to experience THE BEACH!!! everyday. This place in August was our heaven; our oasis. And if we held on in our minds to these feelings, the hurt that bled so strongly in the real world didn’t exist. Your pain from the main land didn’t matter once you crossed the bridge.
So, When I think about it now and look at that movie moment, Travis death was really two deaths.
I lost the island that day he passed away, all that it stood for. The loss of the one truly good spot, my piece of heaven that shaped the best memories I’ll always have.
Travis’ passing was like a loss of innocence. The first time my gut was really punched. The first time a broken heart felt different because it was a loss of something pure.
It’s like all that beauty that floated around you that August night was a trick. It was too pretty, and nothing so perfect lasts forever. Haven’t we been taught that all our lives? We should have known a dark cloud should come. We should have held on tighter to him; we should have called him more; we should have listened to him more. Like the Island, Travis was just purely, purely, pure good.
To be honest and to put it simply, it was the loss of a good person. And not just saying that the way you say it when someone passes. He was a true, to the core huge smiler, laugh out louder who told it like it was but would still drive across the world for you. Someone who had dreams to really be bigger, yet still appreciated who he was and where he was at. A person who’s contagious smile makes your concerns and worry and resolve to be serious break. Who’s simple yet so thoughtful insight makes you see things clearer.
Everyone thinks I was in love with him - or at least liked liked him - but I can say honestly in that peace I felt that first night, that I was not in love with him but loved him with my whole heart for the pure goodness he was. He was a friend when I needed a true, good friend and was a blip of purity and innocence in a hard time marked with pain and tragedy. I loved him for the way he made me love myself, like myself, and think about those around me. I loved him for the way he made me feel about the things around me and I think that’s really, really special.
So a loss like that hits you hard.
And I know this all sounds selfish and I’ve always made his death about me. I know that. But I realize I’m spending so much time thinking about myself so I don’t have to really face that he died and the pain and gaping hole that left in others. Because when I think of myself, you can’t see reality. You can control the pain and how you box it up. You get to remember Travis how you want to and you get to downplay the searing pain you’re feeling.
And how I want to remember him is this:
A kind boy who was a kind friend to everyone. Who was a cool boy in a red car that loved his mom so very, very much (who I have come to love too) and had a weird thing about teeth - good teeth - who’s eyes twitched and who ate his weight in sunflower seeds and apple juice. Who worked for Jus’ Bikes (nothin else) like a character from a movie; who was always looking for his leading lady, but was okay just being who he was - which takes a lot of courage and strength and peace. A boy who gave me a wind in my hair-riding on the handlebars-dancing in top of the world moment-or minutes-by just being himself and being my friend. And a friend to so many, many, many others.
These past 10 years have been my whole life honestly and I’m really, really sad I couldn’t tell Travis about them myself. But his faith and my faith let me know that he knows them - and all their honesty and truth. I hate that hes not here and can’t experience his full life and his family’s life and my family’s life and his friend’s life but he knows what’s happened. And if he was here; he would have been there when we’ve celebrated; when we’ve cried; when we’ve needed each other. His is still all always here.
I’ll abandon all flowery language and say, it sucks and it’s just not the same. Because it does suck and it’s not the same.
My life has forever been changed by loss - just like so many others - and today I’m going to embrace this whirlwind of feelings, just like I did that night we soared through the island, holding on for dear life, flying onto what’s next because that’s how he lives in my heart, and always will forever.
Thank you Travis for loving me, those around you and thank you for being my friend. You are so dearly, dearly missed and so dearly, dearly loved.
Travis Daniel Birch
8/16/90-5/21/2010
