Remembering Endicott

Claudia and Endicott, Halloween 2015 in Sydney. 

This was one of my favourite college events last year. While everyone else was finding a cat eared headband or cloth with eye holes cut in, the four of us (Me, Endo, Duncan and Allie), spent about 2 hours putting together the best costumes possible. Endicott, being American, knew how big of a deal Halloween was and wouldn’t settle for anything less. I think my favourite part of the night was just us 4 getting ready in my room. The fake cut on Endo’s arm took me about 40 minutes of layer tissue paper and painting blood, but it obviously wasn’t enough for him as he poured the red paint all over his hands and smeared it over his body. It was hilarious. 

Allie, Duncan, Endicott and Claudia. Halloween 2015 in Sydney 

Endicott Halloween 2015 in Sydney 

Endi, 

Your dad and I are at the cabin this weekend and as always, your presence is with us every minute. 

I looked up and shot this pic because this display reminds me so much of you.  You were trying to explain how you had to have a pair of authentic moccasins so that you could walk through the woods like a Native American and not be heard. It was on your Christmas wish list. Of course we got them for you.  

We love you so much and miss you terribly.  

Mom

Dear Endi,

First of all, I miss you. Secondly, I’m writing to you from the beach in Wilmington and it’s 6:11am right now (this was kind of an impulsive excursion) and it’s the first time I’ve been to the water since everything happened. I know you’d think that’s weird because you know I love the ocean, and the weather has been perfect, and I live 5 minutes away, and yes, now I can see you rolling your eyes at me and shaking your head in disappointment… but anyway, I’ve just been very hesitant to come back. But I want you to know that being here is bringing me more peace and clarity than I’ve had in weeks. I think I really needed the air and the sounds and the solidarity to collect my thoughts. So this is where I am with it; here are some thoughts and memories that come to mind…

It’s no Rehoboth, but I can still smell Nicola’s and Grotto’s pizza, and I remember how my stomach felt that time I tried to keep up with you, slice for slice. I know that any beach I visit, I’ll think of you, and the memories that will rush back will be happy ones. And the beach isn’t the only place I’ll think of you, because I know I’m going to visit my favorite place from my childhood. And you happen to be a very big part of why that place exists for me. When I visit camp, Endi, I’ll sit on the bluff bench and remember our ‘corny’ conversations about the future of friendship, I’ll think about all the traditions we said we’d continue, and how you made my laugh echo off the bay at 3am. And, Endi, when I play volleyball, my lifelong pastime, I’ll think about how I was going to go to Tamarama beach with you, and I’ll remember to make plans to go there to play. Also, I wasn’t sure if I could handle it at first, but now I know that my first puppy will be a Leonberger. I really can’t wait to love that dog, Endi. I hope the backyard will be big enough. If it is, I’ll want to play ultimate, and I know that all my best disc tosses I’ll have learned from you.

I’m never going to forget categories in the pool. It doesn’t even bother me that you won, EVERY time. No matter what obscure category your dad could come up with. I never figured out if it was because you were just really good at quick thinking in mid-air or if it was because of your athleticism. Could be both. I’m positive that you gave yourself extra milliseconds by treading water during your descent. Endi, I want you to know how much you mean to me. There’s no way to describe growing up so close in age to someone whose family is so close to mine. Parts of my personality are due to the hours and hours we’ve spent together. You’ve shown me ways to live that I would have never seen from anyone else, shown me things to smile at that I wouldn’t have appreciated otherwise. Your wit is clever and constant and sarcastic and sometimes hilariously inappropriate,…I wonder where you get it from (;  And you are so kind… So deeply kind and genuine and gentle and passionate and I know where you get that from…the humor and love is family wide.

That picture of us on the stairs is absolutely my favorite picture, and undoubtedly a perfect still frame of my love for you, and how I have loved you since I was at least that small. And I always will love you, Endi. Thank you for giving me plenty of stories to tell my children, and thank you for teaching me things that I could have only learned from someone as humorous and brotherly as you. So, Endicott, thank you for every memory, and thank you for being such a significant part of my childhood, because I know that, even now, you are capable of evoking pieces of me that no one else can.

I started writing this three weeks ago, and it’s taken me this long to realize
that this letter to you will never be finished…

The sunrise was spectacular this morning, Endi, I’m sure you saw it from wherever you are. I know you’d call me a lame tourist for it, but I watched the sky from the splintery lifeguard stand.

You are forever a part of my life, Endi. I hope to live as freely and passionately as you. I won’t stop learning from your example. I want to help people I love to live like that too.

You will forever have my love. You were truly my first love. And none of that will ever change. I will always have moments where I think of you, and I know that I’m not alone in this. You’ll always be with us, Endi. And I have no doubt that I will one day see you again.

Bella

Endi. What would I do differently if you were here? Would I call you? Make an effort to spend time with you while you were home visiting? Write you an email just to see how you were doing in Australia? Unlikely. I was nobody important in your life, just another person on the periphery of some circle of family acquaintances; a down-the-street neighbor; Simon’s friend’s Mother; nobody, really. But I can’t help but wish so strongly that you were here, and that I could spend some time just talking with you. Perhaps I would have seen you again at this year’s Christmas party - I was hoping for a foosball rematch. I believe the first words I ever spoke to you were, “your name precedes you,” because before I ever met you, I knew you through your Mother’s stories and through Anthony and Simon’s eyes as the popular, older guy they looked up to.

Not a day has passed since I heard the tragic news that I have not thought of you and your family. Not one day. I’m not like you, Endi. I don’t live a fearless, adventurous life; quite the contrary. But the most amazing thing has happened – I would have presumed that your death would justify and reaffirm my anxieties, but for some reason, I feel compelled to live more adventurously – and to accept that there is risk inherent in everything we do, and to do it anyway. And not just for me, but for my boys. It’s uncomfortable to think of the possibility that I may outlive my children, but I cannot deny that this possibility exists. Regardless of which one of us goes first, you and your parents have taught me to work hard to give my kids the best possible life with the richest possible experiences. To identify their strengths and what makes them unique and to celebrate them for it. To give them the freedom to explore their worlds, and the confidence in knowing that no matter where they go or what they do, they will always, always be loved.

For the first time, I took my kids on a long trip. We went to Switzerland and Germany. For many years and for just as many reasons I have been afraid of doing so – the flight was too long and too expensive, the surroundings too uncertain, and in recent years, that Anthony was too tall to comfortably fit on a plane (or in a plane bathroom). But I did it. And as beautiful as the trip was, I spent much of the time watching my kids experience life. Watching them watching the lakes, rivers, and mountains; watching them absorb another culture; watching their worlds expand.

Our last morning in Geneva, I woke Anthony up early and we walked through the city to get breakfast. We sat outside, I drank coffee and Anthony had an apple cinnamon crumble as people walked through the plaza and an accordion played in the background. What a memory. Inspired by you, dear Endi. 

Rana

Glory Days

I wanted to share an email I sent to Liz because I believe this is the case for anyone who carries Endicott in their hearts. 

“Yesterday in Rome we travelled to St Peters in the Vatican City. It is the largest Christian church in the world. I was told that the purpose of the dome design was so that your thoughts are able to reach heaven. Under the largest Cupola (dome) my mother and I said a prayer for Endo. I’ve attached a photo of what I was looking up to. No matter where I am in the world he is with me and with all of you.”

When prom came around I was so nervous you’d show up to my house barefoot, or without a shirt on… Just the slightest thing to get on my nerves. Thankfully you didn’t, you came to my house looking handsome as ever, with your beautiful mom ready for pictures and we had a really great night together. We laughed a lot, drank a lot, and pointed out all the girls on the brink of tipping over in their too high heels. We got back to my house and stargazed a little until you fell asleep on the ground wrapped in my purple blanket. Which I made sure to document! The entire night you were a complete gentleman never leaving my side. I’ll never forget how amazing it was to have your hand in mine all night long being the best friend and the best guy I’ve ever known. I’ll love you and our memories forever.