Many say that growing up, a blessing and a curse, is a rather slow process.  I disagree.  I had quite the reality check the other day when I did a little (uh-oh) math.  Events from four years ago seem as though I just blinked and they flew by, and in four more rocketing years from now, I will be a legal adult.  I sure don’t feel like an adult.

My younger life was filled with many, many great things.  Many of which, I wish I could go back and redo.  I wasn’t aware of their beauty.  Suddenly I went from a pre-pubescent eight-year-old boy to a developed young man.  I’ll be driving in less than a year.  I’ll most likely have a wonderful wife within the next decade, and decades definitely aren’t big.

As a kid, in about fourth grade, my amazing godfather Ben went missing whilst he and his wife were out visiting their lake house.  He decided to go for an evening swim, and didn’t come out.  We still don’t know exactly what happened, and we all miss him insanely.  Especially me.

You see, when Ben laughed, everyone laughed.  He had a booming laugh in which I will never forget.  He was the kind of guy that you could talk to for hours and never want to stop.  He was the kind of guy that kids adored, and elders admired.

That night, my dad called me to his room.  “Ben’s missing,” he said flatly.  I had not a single idea what to think.  We had to dash to the car and drive to his house at ten o'clock P.M. to take care of his kids, knowing horrid things that I had to keep bottled up for an entire three-day stretch.  My best friend at the time, Willy, Ben’s son, was the hardest to keep in the dark.  For all he knew, it was just a sleepover.  A lousy, late-night sleepover.  I arrived in my old pajamas, just a puny kid, tired and scared.  I slept on a creaky spare bed, mind racing.  Attempting to fall asleep with my heart thudding against my chest, a few horrible visions of search-parties and dive-teams clouded my thoughts.

One of the events of that fateful night that truly shot me through the heart was when I heard someone bring forth an inquiry to Willy, saying, “So, who’s gonna take you to karate class?”

“My dad will, he always does,” said Willy.

Like a statue, I sat in silence, showing absolutely no expression.

Years later, my parents described to me the hideous howls emitting from the room my heartbroken Willy was in when he was told the truth.  I didn’t cry for at least two months, not until I realized that Ben, as heart-wrenching as it was, was not coming back.  No matter how hard I prayed for it.  Only that time did I find myself sputtering like a baby, holding one of his shirts.  Even the air cried.  I learned to accept it, which was a major milestone in my life.  He still reminds me he’s here, though.  Every single day.

Things like that cause you to grow up a little, and your mentality changes.  Some are great things, and some, well, not so much.  I wasn’t emotionally ready for that sort of tragedy, but I handled it.  That year was the same year I underwent therapy and hated school with a burning passion.  All of that was nearly four years ago, and I remember even the smallest details.  Those events are elevators, bringing you up to the next level of life.

If you don’t embrace life and fully live it, it flies away like an uncaged bird.  I want these next four years to be the best years of my life, and yours too.  Don’t stress yourself out over things that don’t legitimately matter.  Cliché yet true, it all works out in the end.  Fight for what you believe, yet continue to ride the wind.  Do whatever it is that makes you happy, because in a few hundred years, it’s all that will matter.

Growing up may seem like a slow process from time to time, but believe me, my friends.

It’s not.