New Order

I wasn't very popular in high school. When I decided to go to Loyola University, a mere 45 minutes from my house, I wasn't sure if anyone from my high school would be going there too. As far as I knew, only one person from my graduating class went to Loyola my Freshman year: Andy Poczos. If I remember correctly, Andy played soccer, and was a pretty laid back guy. I didn't know him very much, but when we saw each other on campus, he was friendly to me. We both had our own circle of friends, and we never really made any more connections than we did when we spent the previous six years together.

Ironically enough, another member of our graduating class joined us at Loyola our sophomore year. It's ironic because the person that came to Loyola was Andy's high school "sweetheart," Kim Noonan. I didn't know much about their relationship, but I knew it was strained enough at that point that they didn't really reconnect while there.

Kim and I started hanging out with each other, mostly because we had a class together. It was one of those nightmare classes; quite possibly the worst class I took at Loyola. It was called Liberal Arts Mathematics. It didn't make sense when I took it, and it still doesn't make sense now. Kim and I made an instant connection. We were two lost students who had something in common.

Kim had a bit of a history at Conant. I always admired her from afar mostly because of the challenges she overcame while dealing with teenage life. Kim was diagnosed with Leukemia and by the time she entered Loyola, she was in remission.

I remember the first time Kim and I hung out at Campion Hall. It was a Friday night. Campion Hall was the all male dorm on campus, where I lived. Friday nights were pretty crazy at Campion, and it was about that time that I started liking the taste of beer. I remember meeting Kim on the 3rd floor. Either she invited me to this party in some guys room, or we both knew whoever lived there. It didn't take much for me to get buzzed back then, so after a few beers, I felt great. We were laughing, dancing, and singing. The room was dark, save for a strobe light that made us instantly on a dance floor in a nightclub. Whenever I hear New Order singing, "Every Time I See You Falling, I Get Down on My Knees and Pray," I think about that night and I think about Kim. I heard the song today.

After we danced and sang New Order, a group of us walked down to the lake. I'm not a very strong swimmer, and even in my drunken state, I knew better than to submerge myself into the water like everyone else was. I sat on the beach, alone, listening to the laughter, wishing I paid more attention in gym class.

Kim and I continued to hang out after that night. We mostly studied--or tried to--in my dorm room. We complained about our Liberal Arts work, we complained about the teacher, we got to know one another like we hadn't in high school.

I was in ROTC at the time, and often wore our BDU's (Battle Dress Uniforms--camouflage) on campus. Kim would shake her head at me and chuckle whenever she saw me dressed like that. "It's like Halloween everyday for you guys," she joked.

One Friday night, Kim asked me for a ride home. My parents had divorced by then, and my dad was living in Palatine, not too far from her parent's place in Schaumburg. I was busy with ROTC duties that day, so we got a late start back to the burbs. I remember standing in her parent's living room, Kim's laundry basket in my arms, talking about life at school, and what my plans were for the weekend. I said goodbye to Kim, I think we may have even hugged; something we never did before.

It wasn't long after that when Kim told me the news. I think I knew what she was going to tell me before she even said anything. I don't know how or why, but I just knew. She was sick again, but this time things didn't look very good.

Kim started getting treated at Loyola Medical Center. She came to class less and less, and spent more time trying to get better. She took lots of medications that changed her appearance. I'm guessing, but it may have been the Prednisone. I've seen it happen to my dad and my brother. It's a ruthless treatment.

I didn't know how to deal with illness back then. I've become more of a unwilling expert these days. I was scared. I didn't know what to say to her, or how I should react. We were beginning to become such good friends, and then I blew it.

I only visited her once while she was in the hospital. It was an awkward visit, for both of us I assume, but mostly because of me. She could sense my uneasiness; something I am sure she experienced before.

I may have, I'm afraid, hurt her feelings.

It was during Winter break when I had another feeling. I was sitting in my father's kitchen on a Sunday night. Something told me to grab the newspaper, so I did. I went to the obituary section and I saw what I expected. Kim had passed away. If I wasn't such an ass, I would have learned about this first-hand. I was supposed to be closer to Kim; she deserved better from me as a friend.

I went to her wake that night. I saw people I hadn't seen in a couple of years since graduation. I think Andy may have been there too. There was a group of kids from school, Kim's inner circle, huddled around one another, leaning on each other for support. I was on the outside again, and I felt like running.

Chris Glickman looked at me when I walked up to the group. He pointed to my shirt and laughed. "You have a button missing from your shirt," he said, shaking his head. "Nice." Chris was once my friend in high school. We hung out for about a year, nearly every day. He chose to use this occasion to mock me.

I immediately felt embarrassed. Embarrassed for the way I treated Kim. Embarrassed for not paying close attention to my wardrobe, seemingly disrespecting a friend. Embarrassed that I didn't grow as a person since leaving high school.


A few weeks ago, on a Sunday morning in April, I saw a familiar face walk into church. I couldn't place where I knew this woman, but I was sure we once had a relationship. I was standing at the back of the church, waiting for my cue to begin the announcements. As I walked up to the Altar, I realized who the woman was. Later, during the prayers for the faithful, I was getting ready to read the names of those who had died and whom we were remembering. I had only one name to read: Kim Noonan.