The Stoop

I find myself sleeping on a blow up mattress hovering over the exact spot where he used to cut my hair. Where we used to share secrets and laugh about the little things. Where we spilled out our hearts and planned for the adventures of tomorrow. It was exactly in this spot where we continued to invest in each other week in and week out. We bore our truest selves and our hearts were bound together. In this very place my life was changed and set into motion. He believed in me and through his investment in my life I learned to believe in myself and knew that God was writing an unbelievable story. 

On the stoop outside his place we'd meet and watch the people pass by. I lived only a stones throw down the block so I literally passed by everyday for over a year and more often than not also stopped by. He was one of the first people I'd ever met who acted more in my interest than his own. He cared for me and beyond that for my family. He loved us and he sought to serve us. He was wise beyond his years and a true example of living life as it was intended. 

He always spoke of what life would be like when we went home and how right now, right here, we were learning how to live like we would for all of eternity. Speaking of what life would be like with dad and all the crazy adventures we would have. He didn't have sight only for this moment but for how this moment was drawing us into the eternal. His heart was a deep spring that hinted frequently at the love of our father and the mystical and incredible story he has been weaving throughout the centuries of time. 

Flash forward to this moment and the memories of joy seem painful. There is a sting so severe I cannot describe. I can hear his voice, remember his stories, hear his laugh, see his smile and recall his vulnerable heart but I know I can't be with him. He can't cut my hair in this very spot. He can't laugh with me and we can't swap stories from the day. We won't be together again until I'm called home and that reality is painful to a degree I cannot explain. Having spent the last few years pursuing a long distance friendship where we didn't talk nearly often enough I find myself in complete denial. Waiting anxiously for him to text me or leave me a voicemail and tell me he loves me. I'm desperate to hear his voice, not a recording but an actual conversation. I feel like I can't move on. As if I will be spending every morning anxiously scrolling through pictures, watching videos and reading through old emails. I feel a sadness that is hard to describe. 

Tomorrow my best friend, the one who knows me and loves me, will be celebrated for a life that is truly unparalleled. For a love that cannot be denied and for reminding so many people that their story was part of the biggest redemption story in all the world. He loved like no one I've ever encountered and I'll miss him until the day we're together again. I'm jealous that you're dancing your socks off and no doubt strumming a fancy guitar with our dad while I'm enduring this great loss but it's all the little ways you pointed me toward the big picture that remind me we will be together again and I must press on. I feel like John's description of life after Brent fell. But when we're together again we will laugh, and you can cut my hair, and we can sit together on the stoop and remember what an incredible story Jesus told and he'll be there too and we will laugh and rejoice and our worries will be no more. Thank you for pointing me home Kyle Flanner. You're the truest friend and our dad used you to shape my heart in a way that has caused a ripple effect in my life and so many others. I'm so far from perfect and I mess up seemingly a hundred times a day but I'm part of the greatest redemption story of all time and you taught me that truth. You revealed it to me in the day to day and modeled it in your approach to life. I'm forever grateful for you and will carry the lessons you taught me until we meet again. Until we're together and we can reminisce. I love you my dear friend.