Moon Man

(Teddy)

    The tragedy of life, it often seems, is when a person of extreme talent and worth, has a brief life. After losing my friend Rory in October of 2011, my heart was still bleeding. I had never lost a close personal friend like that before, and I knew that I didn’t want to suffer another loss like that again. But life….well, part of life is death. I just didn’t realize it was going to strike me so hard a second time in less than a year.

    Ted walked into the sanctuary doors of the church I grew up in with his family for the first time in 1999. I was drawn to him and his step brother Dan immediately. They had a similar style, and shared the same teenage angst as me. We became fast friends.

    Ted looked like a real life version of Trent Lane from the MTV cartoon series Daria (google it). That is the best way I can describe him! I mean, take out Trent’s earrings, and you have Ted! He was a musician, a beach bum, a singer, a jokester, a cigarette enthusiast, and royal pain!

We had a lot of fun, Ted and I. The kind that probably annoyed other people! Like, going to the board walk and getting free fudge samples from Steels, then walking around the corner, switching around our clothes, and going back for more (as if we were actually convincing anyone that we were different people)! We would do this repeatedly until they were so mad, that they cut us off made us leave! We wanted to see how long it would take for them to crack! But that was us...and I forever love every stupid, ridiculous, simple moment we shared.

My favorite memory of Ted, and the one I hold dearest to my heart, is when for a period of time in 2003, I was living alone in an apartment with my son. Things in my life were not good. In fact, I wasn’t really sure where my life was going at this point. I had not seen Ted for a long time. In fact, to this day, I have NO idea how he even got my address. But one day, I got a knock at the door. I opened it, and there he was...just standing there with a goofy look on his face. I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to say! I mean, we were friends, but at that point in time we had not seen each other in quite a while, and only spoke on the phone every so often….certainly nothing that would have prepared me for him appearing this way.

“Hey…”, he said...in his quick/short way. “What are you doing here?”, I replied...tears already in my eyes.  He went on to say that he had heard from the grapevine at church, about the challenges I was facing...and he had to find me. I was scared to let him in. Scared because I couldn’t hide from Ted...you know? He could see right through me, and I didn’t want to be vulnerable. What was happening in my life at the time was SO hard, and so painful. I needed to keep it together. I had to be strong for my son. I didn’t want to fall apart or feel what was really happening. Numb was safe. Numb was what I wanted.

    We stepped out on my little terrace and sat on my bench. I wouldn’t make eye contact with him. He knew what I was doing...and he called me out on it. “Woman!”, he shouted, “Look at me, Kate. Look at me.”. He grabbed my chin, turned my head toward him, and forced his forehead on mine, holding it there, no matter how hard I tried to pull away. At that moment, it all came out. Not words, just tears. All the emotions and pain I had been holding in came flooding out, and they flowed until there were none left. He never let me go...the snot and make-up running down my face never mattered to him...he just held me there like that until I was done. It was exactly what I needed, and he knew that. This is what made him so special. Ted only said two things to me before he left that day (this was actually the last time I ever saw him in person). He came in for a quick second and looked at my son taking a nap, and said, “He is beautiful.” And before he got in his car to leave he said, “Beautiful people, don’t deserve tears. Find happiness, Kate.”

After that, Ted moved away for a while...and lived many years of a life away from NJ. But we stayed in touch. We were meant to always stay in each other’s lives in some form, and we always were, no matter where life took us. Our friendship was important to us. He did eventually move back home to NJ, and was very loved by family and friends that were in his life. He battled his own demons, as we all do, but he was a good person. He brought laughter everywhere he went.

In April of 2012, Ted and I spoke on the phone. This wasn’t really a normal thing….we usually  only called on birthdays. He called me out of the blue. I remember immediately thinking something was wrong. He was seemingly fine...but was talking with a different tone than usual. He started saying some things that concerned me….and not what would normally concern a regular person. See...Ted and I joked. All of the time. We were snarky and sarcastic in our banter. It’s who we were. I say, “What up, jerk?”, and he would  reply something like, “Nothing...still ugly. You?” That was the norm for us….but that day, that call….. he was overly serious. The sort of “kind” people are when they are saying goodbye to you forever or something, ya know? I listened...confused, and concerned. “What are you doing?”, I asked. “What do you mean?”, he replied. “This... all this crap you are saying? We don’t do this. Is...is something wrong?”, I stuttered. He was quiet. I was nauseous. “No, Kate...I just wanted to tell you that you I love you, and am grateful for everything you have been to me over the years. Can’t I just say that?”, he asked. Me, remembering the way I have carried regret from not talking to Rory when she had called that last time, decided to just shut up, and listen, and then, when he was done...I told him everything. Everything there was to possibly say. I didn’t want to lose this moment. Not again. I thanked him for his ridiculous jokes, his songs, his transparency. I reminded him how proud I was of him, and how I treasured his heart. I reminded him of how very special he was to God, and how I was grateful that God gifted us each other as friends. “Ted…”, I said. “Yeah…?”, he replied. “You have mattered. You do matter. You will matter.”, I sobbed with tears rolling down my face. “You too, Kate. Everything’s alright, woman. I just wanted you to know what I really felt about you, encase I never said it. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”, he ended.  It was a long, emotionally draining conversation, that I will forever be grateful for. 

    Two months later, Ted passed away suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 29 years old.

He mattered.