A Middledge Journal
In this piece: David Heart (aka: Froggy) reflects on the death of Sage Walker.

RIP Sage Walker (1988-2009)

Twitch and I crashed Sage's funeral the other day. Just like we crashed so many of his parties when he was still with us. I knew he wouldn't mind. Although his father gave us a strange look as we entered the church, fashionably late as always. Sage hated churches. This man knew nothing about his son. He had the nerve to pull us aside after the eulogies to tell us that we were disrespecting Sage. I wanted to tell him that that the only disrespect I see here is that a devout atheist's life is being "honored" in the one place he felt more uncomfortable than under his father's roof. Twitch stopped me before I could say anything that would get us kicked out.

Sage and I had developed a strange relationship over the years. I wouldn't call us friends, at least not at first. I met him through Rook, my mom's pot dealer. Sage was Rook's best friend and often tagged along with him on his deliveries. While my mother and Rook talked business,Sage and I would make small talk in my dining room. Outside of this time every week we pretended not to know one another. If we passed each other in the halls at school or on the street we wouldn't so much as acknowledge the other's existence. That was our sort of unspoken pact. A way of denying the paths that led to our time together.

Despite how hard you fight it, after a while, small talk becomes bigger and deeper. In a way I felt more comfortable telling him things I couldn't tell Twitch. Partly because we technically didn't know each other, and the time we spent together didn't really exist. What was said in the confines of our thirty minutes didn't matter. I think he felt the same way.

Every now and then I'd catch wind of these parties that he's throw when his parents were out of state. They left out of state a lot. I never got formally invited to one of them, although I always got the feeling that he was glad I came, when I did. A glance, a smile, a broken rule.

Senior year I passed around my yearbook for signatures. Yesterday I found out that he signed it. It hiding among the HAGS, HAKAS, an Good Lucks on page two of the back section. He wrote: Frog, Thanks for listening. Take care of yourself man -SW.

He stopped coming over with Rook that Summer. Rumor went around that he'd gone to an early enrollment college thing. This would have been his first summer back home since. I was looking forward to the party that would most likely occur for his return. The party that I'd, no doubt, end up crashing. Too bad the fucker had to get hit by that car.

Still, his death suited him, in a way. He was killed while saving a little girl from suffering the same fate. That's the kind of guy Sage was. Willing to tag along with a friend while he deals pot, just to make sure he doesn't get in too much trouble. He was a good guy. He was -sort of- my friend. He will be missed.