Heartbroken (and brilliant) friend mourns loss
There are moments in our lives when we feel weak, helpless and afraid. When the last ship passes the horizon, when the cold of night envelops the warmth of day, or when the door is simply too large to open. Sometimes there’s just no one around to appreciate all the amazing things you do. These are the moments when I was happy to consider Chivalry (or, to me, Chiv) my best friend.
I met Chiv when we were young boys in elementary school. We were playing basketball and I had scored the winning basket. A jealous loser pushed me over, causing me to scrape my knee. Chiv came running with a Band-Aid and helped me to my feet. We were instant buddies. (I later wrote a letter to the jealous loser’s parents, getting him grounded from Xbox Live for a week. What a lame-o.)
Chiv and I had the craziest adventures as kids, riding our bikes everywhere. We would go to the shopping mall so Chiv could help decide the clothes that looked best on me. We would get ice cream and Chiv would eat as many scoops as me so I wouldn’t feel fat. Sometimes, we just stood outside of a library; Chiv would open the door for the stressed students, and they’d smile at me and say, “Thank you!”
Chiv was just an awesome friend. We grew apart in high school though. I hung out with the more popular crowd, and Chiv was always so focused on his studies. I remember talking to him at a party before we left for college. I was telling him how switching my major from history to finance was going to score me all the hot business school babes. He told me he wanted to study journalism so that he could help people tell their stories. I told him that if he really wanted to help people, he should study politics. Chiv politely disagreed. He always stuck to his sterling moral code.
I guess that stubbornness led Chiv to share his jacket and umbrella with his girlfriend, Grace, on a fateful rainy night. Grace was always petite and gentle, but also fragile and shy. She was Chiv’s perfect foil. When I heard that he had died from pneumonia, I felt like the world was trying to punish me. Why, I screamed into my mirror, why did he have to share his jacket with her? His umbrella surely would have sufficed.
Alas, today we mourn the death of my dear friend Chivalry, and no amount of tears will bring him back. I love him eternally, and cherish the memories we had together. In his honor, I made sure to call Grace and ask her on a date. I hope she handles grieving better by being around an incredibly beautiful man such as myself. I’m sure Chiv would’ve wanted this.
Yes, I will bravely attempt to carry on his spirit in my cold, apathetic heart — even though it is indeed certain, tragically, that Chivalry is dead.
John Brunett is a senior journalism major with a minor in narcissistic chivalry. You can email him at firstname.lastname@example.org.