I met Eric Winterstein when I was a sophomore at CWU in 2010, the year we began dating. It’s been six years since then and my life hasn’t been the same since. I remember thinking Eric was one of the weirdest people I’d ever met and I learned to love that about him.

At first it used to put me off, but I quickly learned to cherish it and proudly showed it off. We loved making people squirm a bit, a similarity we shared until the end. He helped me to embrace my weirdness.

In the last six years we grew together and apart and together again, but we never could shake the feelings we had for each other.

Eric moved away from Ellensburg briefly during college and we ran into each other while attending a concert at the Gorge one year. He eventually returned to CWU to finish his schooling.

In 2015, I moved to Korea to teach English for a year. When I returned in 2015, Eric and I ran into each other again at Seattle’s largest music festival. That single moment led to an indescribable love. There was some kind of underlying force that always brought us together and it was something we couldn’t shake.

Eric, 26, died on June 4 in a tragic accident. He graduated from Issaquah High School in 2008, and from Central Washington University in 2014 with bachelor degrees in chemistry and biology. He was a member of the American Chemical Society and worked for Db3 in Seattle as lead extraction specialist. Db3 is the state’s top selling edible marijuana company.

CWU and the city of Ellensburg held a special place in Eric’s heart and he could never stay away. He was involved in CWU’s science department, was a member of the Chemistry Club and a teacher’s assistant.

“He had a high level of presence and involvement. We have students that do that, but they don’t have the type of impact Eric had,” associate professor Gil Belofsky said. “It was his personality, his optimism, his demeanor. It was infectious.”

The two remained in contact after Eric graduated. Eric often e-mailed questions about his work, but Belofsky said after a short time, Eric’s knowledge surpassed his own. Before graduating, Eric assisted Belofsky and Blaise Dondji in research aimed at treatment of hookworm disease that has since been published in The Journal of Natural Products.

“In time, Eric could be doing exactly what I’m doing,” he said. “He was thinking about a master’s or Ph.D. Eric was going to continue to be a success. He will be missed.”

Associate chemistry professor Tim Sorey described Eric as a creative, hands-on person who thought outside the box. Eric would look out for others by asking questions not just for his own understanding, but for others’ too. Eric never missed any labs, he said.

“Eric wanted it, but we wanted it as well — to stay in contact with his blossoming scientific endeavor,” he said. “Eric was a rising star and was in a field he felt strongly about.”

Some of Eric’s ashes will be spread on the CWU campus, just outside the Science Building, where a tree will be planted in his name. A bench will also be dedicated to him.

“I would love to walk down that walkway every day and see (the tree) every time I come to school,” Sorey said. “We can keep letting people remember how much we cared for him.”

Lucky doesn’t touch on the feelings I have about holding that special, guarded place in his heart. He let me in–– we let each other in again.

Eric and I often talked about this indescribable chemistry we’d always had, but it was never something we could explain. The six months we had before he passed were nothing short of greatness.

When I reflect, I am struck with happiness for what we shared, but also feel immense pain for what can never be again. I will never know that hug again. I’ll never drift to sleep as he chirps on about astrophysics and organic chemistry.

We left Seattle for adventures in Port Townsend, Whidbey Island, Portland and back to Ellensburg. We could never stay away. He drove while I picked the music. In Seattle, we searched the city’s corners for dingy dive bars, looked for hot dog stands at 2 a.m. and tried as many new Indian restaurants as we could.

We often walked around the Pacific Science Center in Seattle hand in hand late at night, when it was empty.

I’m thankful for those memorable experiences and so conscious of the little things like being the one who woke up next to him each morning, packing his lunches, helping him cut his hair and having him drive me to work, tires screeching as he turned the corner 30 seconds before having to clock in.

I had so much left to learn from Eric, so much left to ask and so much that will remain unknown about our future together. The universe took one of the most important people to me, someone whotaught me the most powerful love I’ve ever known. What I focus on now is how fortunate I was that we rekindled the love we’d had for one another and that it was far more powerful than ever before.

Madelynn Shortt is a former Daily Record staff writer and Observer reporter who now lives in Seattle.