Remember that tiny search engine that posted job offerings on the local movie theater’s screen before the previews started? You probably sat there with your date, munching your popcorn ever so softly so as to not disgust said companion, because you hoped at the end of the night she would be thinking more about your charm than your eating habits? Well my friend, this tiny search engine that could has since grown up and now offers visitors across the world instant access to every last piece of information they may or may not need. But you know what it has little to nothing of? You.
You see, every now and then I type your name into Google, thinking/hoping an article would come up that has been written about you after you first passed away. To be sure there are entries, but other people share your name and they are out there living their lives, posting on LinkedIn and Facebook, and they likely will never know there was once a beautiful person that shared their name with you. Maybe one day I’ll give up trying to discover something new that’s been written about your life. I hope not, though. You offered much during your time, and likely had more to present, but we’ll never know.
I wonder how often your family members think of you. I would like to think, and strongly feel, that it is often, but I also wonder too if they find it hard to digest the harsh reality that as the years go on, you get pushed further back into the page ranks of our society.
I can’t deny the likelihood that had you not died that cruel March day in Mexico, I’d have little knowledge of your current life. Most friends from that time are now married, many with kids, and those I called my closest pals aren’t even in my phone’s address book, and you’d probably be no exception.
Still, the random intricacies of life that offer themselves up to my sub(conscious) find their way to my tongue, and have me quietly wondering out loud what could have been for you, and what unfortunately was for all of us. I guess the search contiunes…