Jacob

Jacob was in my dream last night. It's odd to me the sporadic way he pops up in this fashion. I always wake up trying to recollect all the details...wondering the significance...trying desperately, usually in vain, to conjure his expressions, his voice, the feeling of him being in my presence.
Jacob took his life 11 years ago. He was 15; I was one month shy of 14.
Jacob's existence was monumental in the story of my life. His family moved into my neighborhood when we were in grammar school. Jacob was a buddy. He had a major crush on my older sister; me on his older brother. One of my fondest childhood memories is of playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark (with all the neighborhood kids) at Jacob's.
Both of our family's moved to different neighborhoods and though we went to the same church and school, we were merely acquaintances...until junior high. Me: painfully shy. Him: rebellious and cool. An unlikely pair, he was my first real boyfriend. He gave me my first real kiss. It was over almost as quickly as it began, as is characteristic of most all romances at this age. Jacob wasn't over it, though. We were in the same group of friends and they let me know. He would come knock on my window at all hours of the night and this, coupled with his reputation, led my parents to STRONGLY dislike my involvement with him. Things seemed to spiral out of control a bit (not justwith him, but the whole group) and I decided to go live with my dad for awhile (4 hours away, the second semester of my 8th grade year--God, we were so young).
That semester went by in a hurry, and toward the end, things were on the mend between Jacob and I. He and my sister had become friends and trips home equaled her taking us out. He promised he would straighten up...and I promised that I would come back. About a week before I came home he "broke his promise", and though my feelings for him were unaffected I acted as though they were. I was trying to prove a point. We were so young. How could I have known?
On June 4th my mom and sister were to come and get me to take me back home. I woke up late, and was confused b/c they were supposed to be there early. I could tell everyone had been crying. And they told me.

They told me he was gone. Ten hours gone.

I remember that trip home. I remember seeing people laughing at a stop and despising their happiness. I could not understand how the world could still turn amidst my life falling apart. The grieving process was long for me, but life moved on. There has always been blame and guilt...confusion.
Looking back it's so crazy. HE WAS 15! A baby. But to him, to us, to all 15 year olds, life was/is so real. We couldn't see past the now.
Of course I wonder what might have been (for him, for me, for us), but why go into that.
He lived. And because he lived life was changed. MY life was changed. I don't see his family often enough. Sometimes I want to reach out to them and let them know that I haven't forgotten, but then I fear that that sounds unstable, like it should be long gone. So instead I'm sending out into the abyss of cyber space: Jacob Burks is on my heart and mind tonight. He lingers here.