I’ve been stuck in the past these last four days.

I had a voicemail on my phone from my friend Steve who I went to university with. Sort of. 🙂

I am just coming out of a pretty bad depression so I put off listening to it. I was thinking it was him calling to say he’s in town with his partner and new baby and wanted to get together. I was stressing over that because I would want to meet up with them but it would be hard.

Monday, I listened to it. He was calling to tell me that one of our friends had died. Dave Harvey had died on Sunday morning. Pancreatic cancer.

Since then, my mind has been in the vault opening all the Dave Harvey files and bombarding me with memories.

I met Dave in high school but we didn’t become proper friends until afterwards. I remember the day I told him I liked him. I remember the day we broke up and that there was sadness but no bitterness. I remember so many things from our relationship. The adventures he took me on. The kind of guy he was.

I remember the day he got a concussion and asked for me, and then at the hospital when asked who I was, he told the nurse I was his girlfriend and I was terrified we’d have to break up all over again! hehe Then the next day I had to drive Chevy Blue back to Thunder Bay from Minnesota. That damn truck!

Dave was such a serious guy, but could also be a goof. I hadn’t stayed in touch with him but from all that I’m seeing, he was still the same guy.

Davey Sprocket.

Cruzin’ Canuck.

Conqueror of the Appalachian Trail.

Outdoor dude, hiker, biker, milk drinker.

He was a wonderful mix of responsibility and adventure.

I can’t make sense of this. I can’t make it okay that his family and friends have lost him. I don’t know if this is grief, or just shock, or just selfishness because I preferred a world where Dave Harvey was out there somewhere being Dave.

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