Tonight was the husband's ALS graduation dinner. We got to dress up and it was fun (at least as fun as these sort of things can be), considering I knew a grand total of two people there. I was excited to wear a pair of shoes I had only worn once before in the five years that I've owned them, and by the end of the night my poor aching feet helped me remember why I never wear them.
Then we came home and I got on The Facebook (yes, that is what I call it, like an old person) and saw that an old friend of mine died today. I was friends with his older sister in high school and we met at a Halloween party she threw, where my Spice Girl costume (it was 1998) roused his amorous intentions. He and I "went out" for roughly three months, at least as much as a barely-14-year-old boy (I guess I've always had cradle robbing tendencies) and 15-year-old girl can date. He introduced me to Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin, and, though he was not my first kiss, he was my first real make-out partner, my first spoon, and the first boy I broke up with.
But as of the last nine years, we hadn't been in contact. The last time I remember hanging out with him was when we were 16 and 18 and he unsuccessfully tried to teach me to drive stick shift on his old VW Beetle in an elementary school parking lot. I found out a couple of years ago that he had a brain tumor and a blog about it, but, based on his blog updates, he seemed to be kicking its ass. Eventually, the blog wasn't updated very often and I ended up rarely visiting it. But apparently the last few months were bad ones.
Despite not really knowing him for the past decade, this is giving me a major case of the sads. He was a handsome barely-26-year-old, had a long time girlfriend that he had recently proposed to and had spent the last two years battling a brain tumor, a battle that seemed to be going phenomenally well compared to others with a similar diagnosis. I can't imagine the grief his family, especially his fiance, is feeling right now. It's just effing heartbreaking. Gah.