Sunday Night With John: The Smile That Won't Go Away

The honest truth is I have avoided this blog for a long time.  I know that typing these words will open a ball of emotions that I still struggle to understand.  This blog is about Eric Bunn. He was my friend and I can still remember his smile that stretched for days. Eric and I came to know each other the first day I moved into Orwell, Ohio on Leffingwell Dr. He was wearing a Scottie Pippen Bulls Jersey and his trademark smile. We shared a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup as we traded basketball cards.  Eric and I spent the next 5 years hanging out at each other’s house and became the best of friends. When we learned we shared the same birthday we started calling each other twins. We both lost our fathers to early deaths, which strengthened our bond and intertwined our lives.

Sadly, I can also still recall the fateful November day when Eric and I parted ways.  I was watching as the car Eric was riding in came to rest after hitting the ditch and rolling to another street.  I approached the scene and starred into the car as Eric struggled to utter nothing more than painful moans. This moment was forever etched into my life.  Eric did not survive the night and my young life lost another person I loved. At his funeral numerous people talked about Eric’s smile, it was a contagious smile.  You can’t think of Eric and not remember the smile.  After his funeral the smile that had brought a feeling of comfort and care to my life was gone. After his death I continued to have nightmares about the night he died. The questions of what I could have done differently that day haunted me. Why did my twin have to die? How will I ever connect with people again? How will I move on from another death? When I close my eyes when will I picture Eric’s wonderful smile first, instead of his dying body?

The smile that brought me such joy for five years now haunted me. It’s difficult connecting with others over such a tragic event and I pushed them away. Witnessing the death of Eric changed me. It was hard to share my emotions about an event in my life that I could barely understand.  My emotions became hardened because I could not bear to connect with new people in fear of being hurt again. I pushed away a number of serious life moments in an effort to chase a cheap smile. Even when I first started public speaking I wouldn’t shed a tear over sharing the story about my dad. I had come to terms and accepted his death long before Eric’s death. During my first couple of talks I had to wipe tears away re-telling my Eric story and painting the verbal picture of his smile. 

If Eric were still here we would still be a part of each other’s lives and celebrated birthdays together. It would have given us a connection and a reason to at least check in with each other once a year.  It would have been great addition to my wedding, Eric’s smile. I would have had access to what I consider the best smile ever.  As I have share my cherished memories about Eric with crowds all over the country, others have emailed stories about a person they miss who gave the best hugs, who told the best bed time stories and who made the best milkshakes, who made their worries disappear. Those stories have helped me remember Eric’s smile once again.  Thinking of it now brings me comfort and reminds me of the smile he had when we shot hoops in his driveway, or when we would talk about whom the cute girls in school were. One thing did change about his smile over these years though. I used to say his smile stretched for days, which is no longer true. Our short bond has helped me pass along his smile to others for years. Eric’s beautifully infectious smile will never leave my side.