Class of '81

Today I read news that we lost a member of the Iroquois Class of '81. While I moved to California in my sophomore year, and didn't graduate from Iroquois, Western New York has always been home to me, and it always will be.

This news was particularly hard to take. Jamie Dudzic was someone I considered a friend from the day I met him. He was smart and funny and kind. Through the magic of Facebook, we've been able to take a glimpse into one another's lives, send a birthday greeting each year, and simply smile when a particular post touches us.

One of Beck's closest friend's last name is Dudzik. Spelled differently, but whenever I see his name pop up on caller ID, I think of Jamie.

I have been troubled since I read the news. My heart hurts. It hurts in the same way it did when I read the news of Mark Adam's passing, or each year when John Mariacher posts a remembrance of Matt Lewis Jones, or Mark Rademacher.  Or someone else posts something about Heidi Showalter. All gone too soon, as are so many others.

As I scroll through my friends' list on FB from time to time, I am struck by how many friends have left us. Not only from high school, but from other walks of life. It is that time I suppose. We're all much too young, but as we age, we will hear more frequently about another dear friend or loved one who has left us too soon.

I've written before that Doug tells the boys about how we each have three deaths. The first, he says, is when our breath leaves our bodies. The second is when we are buried. And third is when people stop remembering us, or talking about us.

I will never forget Jamie. Not ever. As long as I live. He was one of the nicest people I've ever known.