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I could eat the entire box while I wore no makeup, maybe a little zit cream, a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants, and he would embrace me all the same.
He read several books a week ranging from quantum physics to the works of Ernest Hemmingway, just so he could prepare himself for Stanford Law School.
That amazing, infectious smile—a mischievous smile when he had something up his sleeve.
It was a smile he wore just to share his zest for life with others.
He would throw himself under the bus for a funny joke just to make a crowd laugh.
He lived life to the absolute fullest, because that was the only way he knew how.
I met Mike at Forest Hills Northern High School in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
I was a volleyball player bound to walk on at Michigan; he was a standout football player headed for Michigan State. While the rivalry was strong, we shared a unique bond and an unwavering loyalty.
Mike was an unwavering voice of hope and reason to keep going. He often reminded me that I would make it to the football sideline one day – we talked about that goal often. He would have been the first person I called to share the news.
I’d give him all the credit, and he’d just be proud that we did it together. A week before the accident, Mike gave me a gift—the gift of time.