Gareth
September 11, 2023
I get tense and cagey around 9/11 observances. I’m not sure why, I think I’m just uncomfortable recalling that day and the weeks that followed. It’s was so fucking scary, I don’t want remember, I don’t want to feel like that again. But, I spent that day with Gareth. He was a best friend and he lived with me off campus in our college town.
Every single year after, we always spoke or emailed or texted on September 11, having the same conversation about our shared memories of the day:
The sky was a perfect clear blue. We sat on our deck with our friends Katie and Sara and Leslie not knowing what else to do. It was a Tuesday - we had planned on hitting up the Mexican restaurant for Taco Tuesday dollar tacos, but the restaurant didn’t open. “There were no tacos that day,” we said to each other, imagining how we’d remember this day years later. We arrived at Desperate Annie’s, our beloved dive bar. Phoebe, a girl who messed with Gareth’s heart (“She sure did a number on you,” I’d tell him) was in New York City and she called the bar to reach him because cell phones weren’t working and she knew he’d be there. Rock, the bartender, shrugged and handed over the phone like it was nothing unusual. The next day, Gareth hung up an American flag in our front window (where did he get that? How did we just have a flag lying around??) even though never in a million years did we ever think we’d fly a flag during the George W. years.
Gareth died in July 2021, days before his 42nd birthday. Liver cancer. Sometimes when I see a picture of him - I have a few in my home and sometimes one pops up on social media - I can’t believe that he’s not still here and there are no more conversations.
Now September 11 to me is a day that highlights his absence. How is it that this is the day I miss my friend the most? It seems like a joke we would have made to each other on one of those late nights we spent listening to records after coming home from the bars, making a game of who could pick the saddest song. Taking something bleak and then poking at it with a lit cigarette to really make it hurt. If he were here we would laugh about making the anniversary of a huge national tragedy all about ME and MY feelings about MY FRIEND. It is weird to feel so sad on this day but not because of the planes or the towers or all those people. Miss you, friend.