Goodbye.....

Today we attended the funeral of our dear friend, Maidul. My incredible husband got up and spoke, along with several of his fraternity brothers. He did an amazing job. I'm paraphrasing a bit, because I don't have his speech in front of me, but he said, "Soul mates are a rare thing to find. In my life, I've been lucky enough to have two: My wife, Cortney, and my friend Maidul.

"I met Maidul my freshman year of college. My roommate Chris and I decided to have a party, and we figured if we had been and played the music loud enough, people would show up. Maidul didn't even live in the same building, but he happened to hear a song he liked, and showed up. We asked everyone to write down their names on a piece of paper in case we had another party, and Maidul did so, in six-inch letters, the biggest on the page.

"Soul mates is the only phrase I can use to describe two people who grew up across the globe from one another, and yet had so much in common. Maidul and I had read the same books, enjoyed the same music, and loved the same movies. It's easier to describe the differences between us: He didn't like Star Wars. I assume he didn't like his teeth; anyone who has seen his toothbrush can attest to the fact that he brushed them way too hard" -- *Side note* Maidul's toothbrush always looked like he had been trying to scrub forensic evidence out of grout lines for hours. It was completely destroyed -- And it went on to say that he was "not just my best friend, he was THE friend. There are probably 40 people in this room who would consider Maidul to be their best friend."

And he ended with, "Autobots, roll out."

The animated version of Transformers was one of Maidul's favorite movies.

I listened intently as other got up to speak about my dear friend. I wish I had offered to speak, but I didn't think I'd get through it, so I didn't. I had so much to say, though. I wanted to talk about the day of my wedding when Maidul, a groomseman, called me at 10 a.m. He was at the church already, and wanted to know where everyone was. I told him he didn't have to be there for like two more hours, and he said, "I know, but I don't know exactly how to put on my tux."

It was Maidul's first American wedding, and he was worried that he would somehow ruin it. It was so sweet that he was worried. He got married six months later, so I was really glad he got to "practice" at ours.

I wanted to talk about all the weekends I drove to Coe to visit Brian, but ended up spending more time with Maidul, because Brian was working nights at Best Buy. Maidul and I would sit in Brian's room (and at one point they lived together, so it was Maidul's room, too) and watch movies together. I brought him ice cream a few times.

I wanted to tell everyone that most people don't form such a bond with their friends' significant others. That Maidul and I had a bond that went far beyond friendship. That he was my soul mate's soul mate, and that made him so special to me. That regardless of the disagreements we may have had and the differences between us, he was one of the most special people in my life. That when people say, "I'm sorry to hear about your friend, that's too bad," I want to say, "NO, IT'S MORE THAN 'TOO BAD'!!!" Because he was so much more than my friend. I want to make people understand the giant, gaping hole that has been ripped into my universe with him gone. That the anguish I see in my husband's eyes every time Maidul's face passes through his mind is more painful to me than anything in my entire life has ever been. That the pain I feel when that same face passes through my mind is just as bad.

I sat in Maidul's basement alone last night and just looked around. It was as if he'd just been there. His things were scattered around the room, his blankets on the couch where he slept, his movies in the rack where he left them. I ran my fingers across the things he had probably last touched, and I almost felt like he was there with me, begging me not to cry, begging me not to be sad, and telling me he was okay. I keep picturing him putting his arm around me and giving me that hug that I know so well, that one that told me he loved me, but that he didn't want to hug me too close because Brian would be mad :0) He was always so polite, even when he didn't need to be. I loved that sweet man so much, and now I'm never going to get to tell him so. I miss him terribly, his genuine smile and his slight accent, they way I always knew I could call him if I needed him.

I want him back. I want my friend to be okay. I want the world to know him the way I did. I want him to finish his life the way he should have been able to if it weren't for this tragic, unexplainable, unfair accident that ripped him out of our lives long before he should have left. I want to see my husband smile the way he used to, before Maidul was gone, before he wondered what he would do without him, before he had to see his best friend lying in a casket at 27 years of age.

It's not fair. I miss my friend.