Kurt

I have been trying to deal with this for a while now. I have always been someone who could work things out by writing and letting it all out in print. But, I've tried and I can't work through this. Kurt Schamberg and I went to the same high school. He was a year older than I was, but his sister, Terah, was in my class, and was and still is one of my closest and dearest of friends. I didn't know Kurt very well until my junior year when we played football and had art class together-although I felt as if I'd known him longer. It was easy to forget that we didn't know each other well. Terah and others who had known him all their lives had enough stories and love for and about him that by that time I'd met Kurt, it seemed as though we'd already met a while ago. And there was something else. We shared the love of art and we both shared the need to pull laughs out of people in whatever way we could. He could sacrifice his own pride for the sake of a laugh and all was fair game. All were equal in the eyes of Kurt Schamberg and all were worthy of a laugh. I've been racking my brain in search of a story and I can't find one. Try as I might, my memory is failing me. I only know that there wasn't a time when he was around where someone wasn't laughing. There wasn't a time when anyone felt unwelcome. It's a special person that has the ability to do that and Kurt Schamberg was a special person. After his graduation, I'd run into him at parties or through hanging out with Terah, but I never had the chance to get really close to him or to thank him. And as the time moved on, my run-ins with Kurt grew farther apart. But, with Kurt, this minor technicality of time didn't matter and I always felt like there was no catching up to do. And even in that small amount of time, he left countless gifts for me.

On Thursday, May 19th of this year, Sgt. Kurt Schamberg was killed in action in Iraq. I found out and couldn't bring myself to talk. I didn't know how to tell my girlfriend, how to tell my friends here in Chicago. Suddenly, time mattered again. I wished there was a way to go back and remember all those stories, get all the time back. I wanted to go back and make more memories. There suddenly weren't enough because he was no longer there to erase that time in between. When you know someone killed in battle wrong and right, good guys and bad guys stop mattering. There's a hole that can't be filled-a life cut short. I know he died honorably and I know that he'd have preferred that outcome as opposed to losing any of his fellow soldiers, but it's hard to accept that he's gone.

The funeral was deeply moving in both beauty and sadness. An entire town poured into his memorial service to pay their respects. Flags lined the streets and people had lined the streets, too, when the hearst carrying Kurt, brought Kurt back home. The line was long, but no one complained. Kurt and his family meant that much to everyone. You could feel that heavy weight of loss. All you needed was to look around and see how far Kurt's love and laughter had spread. While in Iraq, he had written to an elementary school class-once even writing seventeen letters in a day. This was a man who cared. A man whom others cared about. A man whom, I later found out, was carried by a color guard from his own regiment that had requested to be there in person to pay their respects to their beloved friend and comrade in arms. In his twenty-six years, Kurt spread love and laughter worldwide and left a lasting impact on all those he came in contact with.

You will be missed, my friend-both by those who knew and loved you and those who will hear of you for the first time in days, weeks, months, and years to come. But, your story will live on. I'll always remember that spirit of laughter and acceptance. I always will. It's the gift you gave me. You were a great artist and you lived your life with the precision and love that any great artist applies to their work of art. I miss and love you dearly and I didn't even get the chance to really really know you. But, I'll be listening for that laughter from up high. How lucky all those angels are.

Please pray for my friend Terah and her family and Kurt's friends.