On July 16, 2017 lightning ripped open a hole in the universe. One year later, I still am grieving that Stephen isn’t around calling me up and saying “Gugga! Let’s go to lunch!” He would drive over, text me to come out to his car, and then we would zoom off to lunch where he would talk non-stop, telling me stories that oscillated between scandalous and ridiculous, and always ended with me laughing my head off. I paid for lunch every single time, and I of course, got the better part of the deal. My friends jokingly call me a “friend top” because I am usually the one who reaches out and invites my friends to do things. Stephen was my “friend top”. He was funny, smart, good looking and incredibly popular and, while it makes me sound like a 14 year old kid, I felt popular because Stephen liked me and wanted me as a friend. And so here I am, on the anniversary of his death, still caught at odd moments by grief. One of the triggers for my grief is an angry song called “Thunder” that I have been playing on perpetual repeat since Stephen died, by a band named Mondo Cozmo. The song speaks of the gap between a disaster (lightning) and the emotional hit (thunder): Don’t stop, never stop believing You were all I ever needed These days everything reminds me That I am waiting on the thunder I am struck by the conflicting feelings I have of being blessed to have ever been his friend and angry that he is gone. Rationally, I know that I am surrounded by friends who are there for me. However, at times when I am by myself, I find myself  missing his presence. It is at those moments that I feel alone in the darkness, after the flash of that lighting bolt, silently waiting for the thunder.