Knowing all day that I was going to write this blog, for some reason now I feel a want of words. The essence of this post is to say that I miss James Don Warren III as much as I did three years ago when his absence was fresh in my mind. It was three years ago to this date that he passed away. June 1, 2008 was the last day I saw this face.
I didn't know what was to happen on the 2nd. I had no idea that for years I would have to dig myself out of a psychological heap that I started to burrow under the day he died.
As well as remembering the last time I saw his face, I also remember the first. I remember where we were, what he was wearing, and our first conversation: BYU-Hawaii cafeteria, Pink Floyd shirt, music theory and Dostoevsky.
The next semester is when we got close. I remembered feeling hesitancy to become close to him. For the past few days, I've worked this and the following feelings I've had into an analogy. It was like I was turning down a curious road but, upon reaching the end, I was beat up and thrown out of my car. Having awakened in another place, I think about this road constantly, start to understand the curious things I saw, and realize that I had never felt so whole in my life. Amid distractions, I feel a continual and aching desire to get back there. But I know I'll never find that place again.
James was the first to understand me. He was the first to get to that place inside, where only one can get if they know the way. He was limitless in his perceptions. He was the first to make me feel real, justified, right, beautiful, worthwhile.
And he himself is such a beautiful person. Its hard for me to stop using him as my standard. I find that I am attracted to personality traits in people that I first saw in him.
I love him and miss him incredibly. Sometimes I try to convince myself to push out thoughts of him, but then I wonder, how? How can I? His influence is too strong, and I've loved him too much. I want the best parts of him to influence me however they can. When it came to love, he was incredibly capable. When it came to intelligence, I've never met anyone so gifted. When it came to music, he could put many to shame. And when it came to friendship, he was just too good at it for me to forget.
He means so much to me. So here's a humble thanks to him who still occupies my thoughts these three years later. Thank you, James, and rest in peace.
