I've never known him to be a sad person. Nobody ever did. Of all my friends, he was the one that had the biggest smile, his zest for life was that of a chid's - always excited and vulnerable.
In the years that I've known him, from early college through adult life, we have considered each other to be best buddies. From his first heartaches to my first flunked subjects, from dwindling allowances to crazy drunken nights, we stood by like eternal youths - just always there, going our way with the tides. A few years from college, when he got married and I wasn't invited, I didn't talk to him for a year. When he and his wife separated, I told him it was cursed from the beginning because I wasn't there when they wed. He was one of the first few whom I told I was a lesbian. And he asked me in his incredulous disbelief, "Are you sure? I always thought you had secret feelings for me!" Crazy bastard.
In the last few weeks before his death, the conversations became a little quiet. It wasn't unusual - we've had episodes of random busy-ness that we attribute to work or other trivial things, but we've always gone back to the chatroom when it was time to breathe. He never came back online again. He never breathed again.
I've never known him to be a sad person. But maybe I'm using the wrong adjective here. Maybe it was beyond sadness that got to him. Or maybe it was not even that. They say he left a note. Oh what I would do to know of his last thoughts.
Did I really know him? Did I abandon him in some way? Could I have done anything? I'm sure these questions ran through not just on my mind, but on all the people who loved him that were left behind. Its been a few months, but there are occasions such as tonight when I find myself itching to chat with my best buddy, and I am filled with pain and grief just remembering how easy it used to be. Life was never complicated, he used to say.
To this day, I still have not understood what happened. Maybe I never will. And the biggest irony of all is that the only person who can make a complete explanation of it all has now decided to keep quiet forever.
In the years that I've known him, from early college through adult life, we have considered each other to be best buddies. From his first heartaches to my first flunked subjects, from dwindling allowances to crazy drunken nights, we stood by like eternal youths - just always there, going our way with the tides. A few years from college, when he got married and I wasn't invited, I didn't talk to him for a year. When he and his wife separated, I told him it was cursed from the beginning because I wasn't there when they wed. He was one of the first few whom I told I was a lesbian. And he asked me in his incredulous disbelief, "Are you sure? I always thought you had secret feelings for me!" Crazy bastard.
Work took him to far places but we stayed in touch through the years. We would see each other during vacations and try to catch up on tsismis and random memories. But most of the real conversations we've had in recent years was done online. I work nights and because of the time difference from where he worked, this works out pretty well. We have had the most profound discussions on how to shave his private parts properly. He also shared how his dream of owning a piece of farm has slowly come to fruition. We've had incessant debates about why he hasn't found a permanent relationship yet. And we've also discussed just how serious we are in getting him to be a sperm donor for my partner sometime in the future.
In the last few weeks before his death, the conversations became a little quiet. It wasn't unusual - we've had episodes of random busy-ness that we attribute to work or other trivial things, but we've always gone back to the chatroom when it was time to breathe. He never came back online again. He never breathed again.
I've never known him to be a sad person. But maybe I'm using the wrong adjective here. Maybe it was beyond sadness that got to him. Or maybe it was not even that. They say he left a note. Oh what I would do to know of his last thoughts.
Did I really know him? Did I abandon him in some way? Could I have done anything? I'm sure these questions ran through not just on my mind, but on all the people who loved him that were left behind. Its been a few months, but there are occasions such as tonight when I find myself itching to chat with my best buddy, and I am filled with pain and grief just remembering how easy it used to be. Life was never complicated, he used to say.
To this day, I still have not understood what happened. Maybe I never will. And the biggest irony of all is that the only person who can make a complete explanation of it all has now decided to keep quiet forever.
