It’s not easy to hear someone tell you they want to be a Marine. In about four weeks my best friend will be shipping out to boot camp for just that. The process has been a bit of a roller coaster ride for me. When I first heard “I’m going to become a Marine” my reaction was extremely negative. I said a few things I really regret saying, was really harsh, and a bit of a jerk. This was my best friend, the guy who kept me company for hours of chemotherapy, drove me to the ER and stayed with me till 5 am, yelled at me for smoking when I was stupid, and put up with all of my crazy shit over the years. And now that friend was telling me he suddenly wants to run off and join the Marines…in the middle of a war.
I don’t handle change very well…at all. And the thought of losing my best friend to the Marines or worse was a lot to take in. I was pissed, outraged. Suddenly out of no where the friend I’ve hung out with for over six years is going to be gone. Gone and changed. That’s something I still worry about, who my friend is when he leaves and the person coming back…I guess at times I still struggle with the whole thing.
But it’s what my friend wants to do and he’d supported every crazy adventure I’d run off on. I needed to suck it up and be there for him. So I watched everything I could about the process of becoming a Marine. I watched at least two movies about Paris Island and anything else I could find that talked about the process, and what it meant to the people going through it. I’ve talked to people who are also going in, people who are in and guys who have gone through and come out.
So over the past two months (give or take a few weeks) since being told I’ve gone from angry to proud. My friend has worked very hard to go, to drop weight, get into shape, study for tests, and is now nervously looking forward to going off to boot camp. So now instead of midnight texts about partying, or self medicating have now been replaced…by talking about partying and self medicating…and of course about the entire process of becoming a Marine. I really respect my friends choice, and I’m proud of him for it. My best friend is going to be a Marine.
I’m still nervous about my friend shipping off in thirty something days. I worry if he’ll be the same guy who tolerates my issues, manages to fake a laugh at my bad jokes…and will continue to drag me out of the house at an ungodly hour to make it to Disneyland before it opens. But that’s where it stops and I’m cool with that.
