Andy Mann: Eleven Years

Today marks 11 years since Andy left our world.  Eleven years of missing an incredible man.
I can still remember it all so vividly.  I wish I couldn't.  It always brings tears and heartache.

There are no words to describe the type of person Andy was.  He's was only one of the most amazing people ever.  It's still hard for me to understand why he was taken from us.  So young.  So suddenly.  And in such a tragic way.  It just doesn't seem fair.  At all.  I know I need to stop questioning it because we'll never understand. But I do keep searching.  The only thing I can come up is that God put Andy here on this earth to show us how to live life.  A life full of love and acceptance for everyone.  A life full of nothing but laughter and living for others.  I tell myself Andy was put here to be an example for us.  And God thought Andy had accomplished that in his short 17 years here on earth.  And by His taking him, has made all of us stop and think.  We all knew how amazing Andy was, but it was by his death that made us realize that we too should be living a life like his.  (Although I'm still searching for why he had to be taken in the horrible way that he was.  That I will NEVER understand.)
Is this the reason Andy was taken from us?  No one knows.  But I think this makes perfect sense.  So it's what I chose to believe.

Today I woke up and thought a lot about Andy.  Andy is always on my mind.  But especially today, on the anniversary of his death.
I laid in bed crying, feeling guilty I didn't visit him while I was home.  I know I don't need to be sitting at his grave to talk to him or feel him around me.  But I feel better and closer to him when I'm there.  When I touch his stone, it's like I can feel him touching me...as if he's sitting right there next to me.  I feel I can talk more openly and honestly there.  I also just feel it's a sign of respect to visit people at their grave.  But I didn't go.  Christmas leave is always so busy.  We were running from here to there and back again.  But I should have made time.  And I feel so guilty and like a bad friend for not visiting him.  I'm so sorry, Andy.

Today I laid in bed thinking about Andy and all our fun times during high school.  But I suddenly realized, I can't hear his voice anymore.  It brought me to tears.  So much time has passed that I cannot recall his voice.  I can't call his cell phone and hear a voicemail.  Back then, we didn't have digital cameras and smart phones we carried around all the time with video capabilities.  I have no way of replaying his voice.  And this saddens more than I can express.  Because his laughter was one of the most contagious laughs you've ever heard.  You couldn't help but smile when he laughed.  And his voice always sounded so excited.  He could be telling you the most boring story but he had a way of making it exciting just by his voice.  So full of life and happiness.  That's just Andy...in all things.  But that voice is gone.  I can't recall it.  I tried.  I laid there and tried so hard.  But I failed.

His face is also fading from my memory.  I can no longer close my eyes and envision him.  I picture his dark hair and a smile, but the details, they're missing.  It's a blurred image.  It literally pains me.  When I try to picture Andy, all that comes to mind is his picture in our yearbook.  A still, non-moving, school photo.  I can't picture a true, detailed and clear, moving, life-like Andy.  No matter how hard I will my brain to remember his smile and his face, it just comes up with that one still detailed image or a blurred more animated image.
I don't even have my own photos to look through.  When Andy died, we all collected our photos to create giant poster boards full of photos of him to be displayed at this visitation and funeral.  Back then, as I mentioned, we didn't have digital cameras.  Those were my only copies.  I gave away my only memories of Andy.  I didn't even think to scan them or make copies.  I knew Andy's family would want them.  And they deserved them.  I wish I had made copies but I am not mad I gave them up.  Andy has an absolutely amazing family and they deserved every single photo of him.  I know if I were a mother or sister, I would want any and all photos as well.
I just wish I had a photo that I could frame for my house and others to keep in a small album.  Or something of his to be displayed and stand as a reminder of such an amazing man.  But he was a guy.  It's not like girlfriends who share things and give gifts to one another.  If any of my girlfriends passed away, I'd have many things to remember them by.  But it's not the same with a guy friend.
I used to have a penny from him.  After his death, his amazing mother gave all of us juniors at St. Pius this poem about pennies from heaven.  In all of my moving during college, to back home, to Maryland, to Florida, I've somehow misplaced not just my poem, but also my penny.  I wish I could find it but basically, the poem says that when you're feeling down, your angel tosses a penny down from Heaven to cheer you up or let you know they miss you.  One day I found a penny, and it sounds crazy, but I just knew it was from Andy.  I carried that penny with me everyday for a year.  Then I kept it in my jewelry box.  And then suddenly, it was missing.  I was devastated.  Because I realized, I lost the only physical thing I had "from" Andy.

And now I've lost my memory of his voice and face.  It's just so hard.  I keep wishing I had a framed photo to talk to (crazy as that sounds) or a penny to hold as I talked to him.  Andy, if you're reading this, I'd really appreciate you sending me another penny ;)

Although this all saddens me, I need to focus on the positives.  That's exactly what Andy always did and what he'd want me to do right now.  So here it is:
I'm happy that I was able to know Andy.  To call him a friend.  I feel very blessed for that.  Even though it was only for two and a half years (my high school was so small, you quickly grew close to people).  While short, they were powerful.  He touched and changed me more than I could accurately describe.  I'm happy to have seen the man he was and the way he  made everyone feel they were his best friend.  I'm happy that I was able to grieve his death while also taking his amazing life and trying to model mine after it....as I think was God's plan.
I'm happy that while I've forgotten his voice and face, I have not forgotten all the memories and times we had together.  All the "Good Morning High-Fives", the parties, the sporting events, the cheering me on during soccer, the before and after school gatherings in the parking lot around his beloved Jeep.  I have not forgotten a detail about the amazing man of God he was.  The amazing friend, student, brother, son, athlete, and teammate he was.  Those are the type of memories that never vanish.  Because someone like Andy doesn't just touch your heart, they leave a lasting impression.
Thank you, Andy, for the impression upon my heart and my life.  Thank you for watching over me the past eleven years.  Thank you for listening to me and helping me through 2006.  You are always, always in my heart and on my mind.  I love and miss you, Andy.


If you like to read more about Andy, please visit his Memorial Grant page {HERE}.
I had never actually sat down to read this site until just now.  I realize that the Mission on the page is almost exactly what I've written here in this post.  And in previous posts.  Whomever wrote that Mission page for his website was thinking identically to me...about leading a life as he did...about imprinting on our hearts.  Absolutely crazy to write this blog post, then to go and read it there.  Just proof that he truly was an amazing man!