Ryan Brown. He was one of the most infuriatingly kind people I have ever known. I am guilty of being frustrated with him as a coworker for being distracted, but as a person, I loved the kid. In the same way you love a puppy: you get angry with them for the little things, even though you still care. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the part of you that cares... so I'm sure many people thought I couldn't care less about him. I'm glad he and I had a few heart-to-hearts so he knew at least on some level that wasn't the case.
There's always (maybe not ALWAYS) that moment of comedy when you're first told about someone's death. Like, my first instinct was to laugh. As though it were a hilarious joke. I wanted to start laughing.. because I'd drive over to Starbucks and he'd be there in the drive-thru charming the customers with his baby-face and his purple tie.
But it wasn't a joke. It isn't acceptable to start laughing, because it's real. I don't want it to be real. I woke up this morning knowing we all had gone out in remembrance of this kid who touched all of our lives, put my purple bow in my hair and went to get my pre-class coffee... but he wasn't there. Instead, I was slapped in the face by the truth. My coworkers all wearing his name on their aprons and purple ties. My breath caught. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.
I ordered my coffee, said goodbye to them, and went to my car and cried.
I drove to class, struggling to catch my breath, confused and heartbroken all over again.
It doesn't make any sense. It won't make any sense. He was just this adorable, smart, funny kid who didn't know how truly appreciated he was.
It isn't okay. I'm not okay. I'm not okay with it, but I'm also just not okay. I want to turn back the clock. I want to go back a few months to where we first talked, sitting in Starbucks when he asked me the most terrifying question a college-almost-graduate can be asked..
"Hannah, tell me, what are you doing with your life?"
I want to turn it back and take more time to show him how much I cared.
I miss his smile. I miss seeing him in the Drive-Thru when I stopped for a treat, when he'd smile and ask me about my cat, or what I was reading, or anything. I miss him standing too close, hovering, loitering, I miss it all. Everything that frustrated me, everything that softened my frustration, everything that I loved about him.
My coworkers at Starbucks, I don't know how any of us are supposed to go about remembering and putting on our Customer Service faces, but I hope you all know that we are a family, and we will get through it together. We're dysfunctional, but we're a family. Together, we will remember Ryan, his ties, and his beautiful spirit.
Always,
AnEnglishMajorInMourning
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