I remember the shorts you were wearing the day we met in August of my freshman year, the ones we’d laugh about later. How immediately comfortable I was around you that day, how quickly it felt like you understood me. Little did I know then that I had found my best friend and companion of my first year at Duke. But I was quick to find out. Over the following year, we laughed together, cried together, went on dates, exchanged love letters. I still have the list of 100 compliments you wrote me, and I smile when I see photos of your handwriting. What started on that day in August was sure to change the way I see love, the world and my relationship with both.
Our first date was at M Sushi, and it all felt surreal and so real at the same time. You told me about your dreams of being a lawyer, the possibility of simulation theory, current events, the Fibonacci sequence, how much you liked my necklace, anything; our conversations flowed like music. You had this way of making intricate connections between seemingly unrelated things, like finance as an art form, or chess as a representation of your life story. Everyone else in the restaurant seemed to fade away as I looked at you—you were the most thoughtful and thought-provoking person I’ve ever met.
Your laugh lifted up the people around you with the way your tone raised when you first broke into the giggle that would escalate into a whole-hearted chuckle, and I remember how beautifully the green in your eyes shone right after you cried. You shared everything that you were with me, and your vulnerability showed me what it means to be whole and human. We weren’t perfect and never could be, but what we shared was something I’ll always cherish.
Falling in and out of love is never easy, but I wouldn’t take back a moment I had with you—through it all, you pushed me to be a better me than the person I was the day before. I am unbelievably grateful for your love, your knowledge, your patience and your grace. In the last hand-written letter you wrote me, you said, “The highs showed me what life can be, and the lows showed me that I was alive.” Thank you for showing me it all, from your home and high school, to your fears and insecurities, to your dedication to the people you loved.
I’ve never learned so much from anyone as you; you’re with me always. It was an honor to have known and loved you Grey, rest peacefully.
Astrid Giblin is a Trinity sophomore.
Editor's note: The Chronicle is accepting letters to the editor remembering Grey and Raj. If you would like to share your thoughts and feelings, please submit letters to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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