Farewell to a friend

So I got the call last night that everyone dreds getting... The call that someone very close you has been killed. Shane Sirois was shot and killed Saturday night in Tucson, AZ. Although I somewhat half expected that would be how he went, I didn't think it'd be so soon. He always seemed a little rough around the edges. The kind of kid who defied athourity wherever it was presented. He was raised LDS but chose to follow a different path in life by the time he got into high school. Despite his drug use and drinking, he and I remained friends. A few months younger and quite a bit bigger (built) than me made him the leader in many of our childhood escapades, and no matter the adventure, we were like brothers... the kind of brother you get along with though (which I didn't get along with mine when I was younger).

So I reflect now (and all last night) on memories of the Shane I knew. He and I walked to scouts together in elementry and mid school. We would stop on the way at Whiting Bros. gas station and buy a Dr. Pepper. They had the "win under the cap" lottery going so we would cover for each other to look under each cap before buying them so we could get free drinks.

We spent summers playing in my grandpas equipment out behind our house. Usually we would pretend that he and I were brothers (with a lot of guns and even some super powers) out to find our family, or rescue someone. He was with me the day I got appendacittis (sp) and the first of my friends to come visit me in the hospital afterwards.

We often went to the local flea market on weekends to try and buy a knife or some other taboo item for young 10-12 year olds to have.

As explorer scouts, we went on a number of "moon-capades." He was never shy to share his ham with the world. On one outting we were camping near the slat river canyon (miles from anything) and hiked out to the main road around 10pm (with 4 other scouts) to moon passing cars. Of course it was his idea, and of course, I was afraid to go along, but he always had a way of convincing me to go anyway. Looking back, I'm greatful for small things like that, just to say I've done them. Besides, the thought of driving out in the middle of absolutly nowhere at 10'oclock at night and seeing 6 little white butts shining over the gaurd rail sure gave us a great memory to laugh about for years, and will for years to come.

He and I also were together when we discovered that a can of beans will explode if you put it in a campfire to heat up its contents and don't open the lid... the same happens with cans of compressed shaving cream.

When we were 15, I bought a small Honda 50 motorcycle and we would both sit on that, (me on the gas tank and him on the seat) and cruse the trails in the forest behind my house. Out near the Mogollon Rim, there was an irrigation river (ditch) that we would drive along and sing CCR "Rollin Down The River" everytime we rode there. We were crossing Hwy 260 to take him home from riding one time and accidentally jack-knifed the bike. We both got scraped up, and my leg was badly burned by the exhaust pipe. His grandpa (ex-millitary man) was up visiting from Tucson so he cleaned my wound... one bottle of iodine later, I learned the price for sterilization, and you know, it didn't even scar.

Shane and I would ditch sunday school on occasion to go to the gas station down the road and buy treats. We attempted to do this one night for mutaul and were chased down and tackeled by Shane Hall (an advisor from Show Low who should have even been there). My friend Shane came back for me and kicked Shane Hall and we resumed (and succeeded in) our escape.

When I left on my mission to Ecuador, he was at my farwell. It was the first time he had entered a church since we were 17. He wrote me the entire time I was in Ecuador, and although I could never get him to return to church again, and we pretty much went our seperate ways a couple of years ago, we always tried to keep tabs on each other.

There was always some sort of comfot that I got just knowing he was out living his dream being an international stunt man. Although he never really excelled in school, I knew his potential and always urged him to reach it. Being a stunt man really was his dream in life, and along the way he became fluent in Chinese and well versed in German.

I think the hardest part about all this is that not only was he a brother to me, but he was a brother AND a father to his two younger siblings. Their father died when Shane was only 6 years old and his mother went through a number of bad marriages thereafer. Shane was always there as the family protector; not only for his younger siblings, but for his mother as well.

Although very few, if any, people ever knew the Shane I knew, it is the Shane I will always remember and love. I don't know exactly where his death has taken him, but I know that our Father in heaven is both just and merciful. No matter where he is now I'm sure it's better than where he was on the night of his murder.

I know this was long. I don't really expect anyone to read it. It was more for myself to just get out on "paper". However, if you do read it, you are welcome to still comment if you feel inclined.