Edible Arrangements

 After Shane died, my parents and my best friend and I were gathered at home, preparing for a day at the funeral home or maybe one of the days right before the funeral home. Everyone was in pajamas, if I remember correctly, except for my best friend, who was put together and making sure that we were at least semi-functioning. There was a knock at the door. My best friend appeared to go answer the door and then came into the room where I was, muttering something slightly undiscernible and suggesting that I needed to go answer the door. 


At the door was a man with the widest smile I've possibly ever seen. He was wearing orange and purple and holding and obscenely large bouquet of fruit. So large that he was struggling to keep it upright. 


"HELLO!"


I stared back in disbelief. What was this strange little man doing at the door? What was this bouquet of fruit? Why was he so happy? Would I ever be that happy again? Was I ever that happy to begin with? Probably not. Could I even fake being that happy? Probably not successfully. Seriously, was this man on medication? Did he have a head injury? These are the thoughts that flew through my head as I stared at the man, unable to form proper words. 


Finally, I answered, "How can I help you?"

"Well, I have an Edible Arrangement for you! And boy, is this one special because it even has special chocolate sauce! And I've never gotten to deliver one with special chocolate sauce before! So this must be a very special delivery! Now, if you can just take this, I need to run back to the car so that I can get a little signature from you and give you one of our wonderful calendars!"

The man somehow placed the Edible Arrangement into my arms and, in the memory I've kept of the moment, skipped off to his delivery van to get a calendar and something for me to sign with a "little signature." 


I must have managed to hand off the arrangement to someone else, collect the special chocolate sauce and calendar from the man, and give him a little signature. He was smiling the entire time. Couldn't he see our misery, I thought to myself. Didn't he read the card? 


"Have a great day!!" The man trotted back to his van and drove out of our lives. 


I turned around to face my family and friends. And something magical happened. We all started laughing. Real laughter. Not forced, conversational laughter. But real, honest, doesn't-make-you-sound-attractive laughter that comes from deep down in your belly. 


That moment proved for me that life does, in fact, go on. Sometimes it starts to go on during a time when we least expect, like when you're minding your own business, attempting to be miserable and grieve in your pajamas. Life forces you to have moments of happiness and laughter, even if it then thrusts you into four miserable days of funeral homes and funerals and burials.


I don't remember who sent the Edible Arrangement, I think it was a friend of my mother's. It was excessively large and took a long time to disassemble but it gave us fresh fruit to eat. And it gave us laughter. Throughout the rest of that week, we kept seeing Edible Arrangements trucks and making jokes about special chocolate sauce and happy deliverymen. To whomever sent that, I don't think anything else my family was given during that time frame brought us more genuine happiness during a time of absolute misery, so thank you very much. 


Not so long ago, I saw that deliveryman again and took the opportunity to thank him. I don't think he remembered me, but when I told him that we still talk about how happy of a person he was and how he brought my family so much joy with our Edible Arrangement he smiled wider than I thought possible, even for him. 

"Kill Those Noobs!!" -- Shane Reifert

Before Shane joined the Army, he was very much a gamer. I can't count the number of times when we were both living at home that I would yell at him to keep it down as he laughed and screamed with his gaming buddies. Now I would do anything to hear him laughing in the backroom into the wee hours of the morning. Shane's gaming life was very much his own. He never met the men he gamed with but I knew that they had strong friendships with one another. I've contacted/been contacted by a number of his gaming friends, who all tell me how much Shane meant to them and how, even though they had never met, they considered Shane a friend and were deeply saddened by his death. I asked one of his friends, "Ody," to write something up on Shane and his time gaming. I displayed this, along with Shane's controller, headset, and some games, at the funeral home. This was a part of Shane's life that I was not a part of, so it was very comforting for me to hear Ody describe a part of Shane that I never knew:

I first met Shane, or "Swan" as we knew him, in the fall of 2005 while we were members of a large Call of Duty 2 clan called Gunners of War (GoW). We gamed together in that clan for a very short time, a few months at the most, but that is where a small group of guys (including Snipe, 2pies, Creeper, Kermit, and Hawk) were introduced to each other .  While all of our friendships started in that clan and it was a good time, it didn't fit what we saw as the ideal gaming experience. GoW was a large clan with over 100 members.  I think we were all looking for a more intimate gaming experience, a couple guys in a voice chat server, shooting the shit while playing and just screwing  around while still being competitive in leagues. We decided that a small group of us that played together more often than the rest was gonna leave and start our own clan later named  "Banana Police". By the way, Shane was a big advocate for that name... He loved it :)

Through many hours over many years of gaming together regardless of age differences of up to 10-15 years apart, we all had the games in common. People had their real life stuff from graduating high school and/or college, buying a house, having babies, getting married or even learning to drive a car for a couple younger guys!! Yet most nights we all ended our days playing a game together, laughing, shooting the shit, being jackasses, going into servers with douchebag admins who had goofy, strict rules  and seeing who could get kicked or banned first :) Shane was a pro at that, he knew how to get people going :)

People that have never gamed online with others may not be sympathetic about it because they can't understand, I have lost a real friend. Even though we never have met face to face, we knew a lot about each other. Together, us guys weren't just playing video games. We we talking about life.... stress, jobs, books, music, movies,our goals, our families, girls etc. It's like another family, things aren't always perfect but in the end we're all still there for each other. We got to know each other better than I know some of my friends that I see all the time.  Shane was a great friend and an incredible human being. He sacrificed his life so the rest of us could safely do the dumb shit we do everyday. I am honored to have known him and I am truly grateful for what he has done. He will never be forgotten. RIP SWaN

Shane's Guitars

Before Shane joined the Army, he played the guitar. It was one of the hardest things for him to give up when he joined. Shane had over a dozen guitars. I know nothing about them except that one is an acoustic, one is a bass, and the rest are electric. Now the guitars sit and gather dust or are entombed in cases like caskets. 

The other day, my friend was over. He used to have a band. He can learn to play a song just by hearing it. He has a breathy but strong voice and gets nervous for the first few seconds he plays the guitar in front of others. And I showed him Shane's guitars. My friend opened each case with care and I could hear excitement in his voice as he explained what each one was. I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter because someone was appreciating and understanding something that Shane loved so much. It made me feel better for a moment. It made me feel connected. 

This friend never got to meet Shane and I deeply regret this. I know that he and Shane would have gotten along, that Shane would have approved of him as my friend (something he rarely did) and they probably would have even been friends themselves. That is why on Wednesday this friend has kindly granted my family's request to perform a song that Shane wanted played at his funeral, on Shane's Taylor acoustic guitar. Hearing my friend play this song tonight for me made me fear that this will be the last time I ever hear someone play Shane's guitars. It made me realize that Shane himself will never play those guitars that he cared for so much. I thought of all of the songs that Shane will never learn, all of the music he will never hear, and most of all, of the finality of death.