My Man Holmes

I had this friend back in my “wild” undergraduate days. He was a pretty cool guy. His nickname was “Holmes”. He had a bit of luck with the ladies and the name stuck. We hung out with other friends at parties and sipped on a beer or two together. Sitting here, he popped into my mind. Holmes reminded me of a time when I didn’t live up to my own standards of behavior and friendship.

Holmes and his dorm mates were playing a game on intramural flag football. Holmes became the victim of a freak accident. He took a block wrong or something and ended up falling hard on his neck or upper back. Holmes ended up in a wheelchair as a quadriplegic with limited use of his arms. He came back to school after about a semester of recovering and got back into the swing of being a student. From what I could see, he was alright with his life and had a handle on how he was going forward.

I would see him around campus, occasionally at a party or in someone’s dorm room. Although he couldn’t walk anymore, he didn’t seem to have missed a step. He was always really cool. He would always invite me to come by and hang out. And I know that he was sincere about the offer.

I never went. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Nothing was wrong with me; nothing happened to me. He was the one who suffered the injury. And I didn’t hurt him. I just couldn’t go. Maybe, I thought that some of what got on him would get on me. Whatever it was, I failed to be a real friend and I am a little regretful about it.

I am always talking this stuff about how I think that friendship is a divine thing; that friends are people that we choose to love and that bond is a sacred gift. In this case, I blew it and can’t understand why. I just know that I wasn’t the kind of friend that I should have been. I mean the least that I could have done was show up every once in a while to spend some time with the guy.

I honestly don’t know what Holmes is up to now. I should probably check the alumni association. Knowing him, he is probably a billionaire or a successful lawyer. Whatever success and happiness he has found; I wish him a million times more.

I don’t think that I have a point with this post, except that I hope never to punk out on a friend like that ever again. Do I have to always have a point?