Being Chuck

This doesn’t happen very often, so all three of you reading should probably take notice.

I never seem to have problem letting anyone know how I feel about anything, but this time has been different. (This, of course, is the thing of which you should take notice.) It’s something I’ve avoided talking about at all costs.

But I was forced to admit it Saturday night.

Brian Truschinger and I were standing at Andrea Cox’s (now Danowit) wedding (sorry Aaron, no one really cares about the groom) discussing how much pie (Andrea had pie, not cake) I had already consumed, and was still planning on consuming, when he laughed and said, “I’m gonna miss you, man.”

Crap! [read with an exasperated sigh]

I was trying to not to think about this, let alone talk about it.

There are lots of people that I would consider friends. People from church, people from work, just people in my life… all kinds of people. But there are only two men I’ve let into the inner circle (sorry to all those who were holding their breath awaiting an invitation, but it’s not really that great of a place to be anyway).

J. E. and Brian Truschinger are my closest friends.

There are no men alive who have poured more into my life (outside my dad) than these two. I love them. We argue, we discuss, we laugh, and now apparently we will cry. (I will anyway, having kids has made me soft…)

I realize that as a “man” I’m not supposed to be aware of (let alone share) these types of feelings. Grr! I’m a man (I’m 40!) [Thank you again Mike Gundy for one of the more hilarious moments in college football in recent history.] And I realize that I’m not supposed to broadcast those feelings on the internet for you to read… but you’ll live.

Brian and Amanda (his wife) and their kids accepted a position at a church plant in Kirksville, MO. He is leaving at the onset of the new year.

J always has been (in some sense) and will continue to be a missionary (in the sense of the word that most people understand). He and Kelly (his wife) and their kids are headed to Istanbul, Turkey this summer.

This sucks… and I have avoided speaking seriously about the topic at every turn.

Most of my life I have avoided real friendships to save myself from this type of anguish. I let people get close, but not close enough to hurt when they (or I) leave. But when we moved down here, I knew it was to stay for a while. And when I met these two men, I knew we would be friends for some time.

But obviously “some time” wasn’t long enough as far as I’m concerned.

I guess I just never believed either of them would really go.

When Brian and Amanda tried to leave the first time, I told him he wasn’t really going anywhere. They prepared to go, and they even sold their house. But when push came to shove, my friend was back on staff before the summer was over.

When J and K told us they were thinking about Brazil, and then China (or maybe it was the other way around), I wasn’t really worried when it turned into Turkey.

But obviously what I thought was going to happen, what I wanted, isn’t the reality I’m faced with now. Now I’m faced with losing (not really losing, but losing nonetheless) my closest friends.

There’s not any anger there, nor is there any resentment.

I’m just sad.

And I feel terrible about it. I want to be happy for their new opportunities. I want to be the same guy I was a few months ago. I don’t want my wife to have to ask me what’s wrong anymore. (Not because she shouldn’t ask, but because I don’t want to feel or act in a way that causes her to notice a difference in my countenance.)

I want my friends to stay.

And while part of me is laughing at the childish, weeny way that statement feels when I say it out loud (or write it in a blog), the other part of me is too honest and too busy grieving to care.

I have no doubt that we will stay friends despite the distance, but I also have no doubt that it’s not going to be the same.

I will miss them.

I’ll miss the ridiculous lunches, and the times when we can’t stop laughing (like jumping down the stairs into a pile of couch cushions while we’re moving someone… that was last week by the way…). I’ll miss hanging out as families, and I’ll even miss the two of them sitting down with me as true friends and pointing me toward change that needs to occur in my life and walk with Christ.

I don’t really know how to wrap these thoughts up. I’m not sure what to say about two guys who have had such a profound impact on my life.

It almost sounds like I’m writing their eulogies. They’re not dead, but instead of lunch once a week or more, I’m going to have to settle for goofy emails and maybe even an awkward phone call every now and then (I hate the phone…).

How do I finish this? I think I’m rambling in the hopes that if I just keep typing we won’t actually reach the point of them leaving…

I don’t know what else to say, but I think this will do for now:

Thank you guys. I’ll miss you and I love you.