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See a previous blog for some background.
Short story, my closest friend passed away from cancer.
Two days ago, a mutual friend told me she passed away. She beat the odds-- a little bit, lived a lot longer and happier than most. We stopped talking as much the last few months, but that changed nothing.
Short story, my closest friend passed away from cancer.
Two days ago, a mutual friend told me she passed away. She beat the odds-- a little bit, lived a lot longer and happier than most. We stopped talking as much the last few months, but that changed nothing.
I suppose I am fortunate. I knew I had to say goodbye. Then again, I knew I had to say goodbye.
So here I go.
Sometimes I want to say that it was fate that we got along so well. I know that you’ve tolerated my silliness, stupidity and stubbornness many times for some reason that cannot be explained by simple give and take. I remember what kind of person, what kind of kid, I was before I met you—smart, talented, but above all, arrogant and abrasive in my own little world. There was more, but at that time I was content to let my other, better self go. But you weren’t.
Thank you for everything. You were the doctor that allowed the broken bone to heal straight, the one who took a frightened kid who would have shrouded himself in superiority and the lie of infallibility, and changed him. Being honest to you taught me to be honest to myself. I am who, where, what I am today because of you.
You are the only person for me who silence was as meaningful as a sound—and yet, we could talk for a million lifetimes and there would yet be more to say. But there aren’t. By December of 2011, it was the beginning of the end.
I don’t know how you did it. It’s strange isn’t it—we knew each other better than anyone, but I never understood how you could keep the same purpose in life when life was so changed. I felt so pathetic and so far away as the normality you tried so hard to preserve slowly collapsed. For the first time, you were dishonest with yourself. But you caught it.
I’ve thought long and hard of how to describe you. Funny. Intelligent. Beautiful. Perfect. None of it encompasses all you are—even music, which can say things we cannot, does not suffice. Not every single song that has passed through my ears and soul. These few words are nothing. I could tell the story of a girl named Christine, and that would still not be enough.
Never have I loved, laughed, cried and felt so human but with you. What will I do now with a hundred thousand words and memories, whispering your name just below my consciousness? Like some ancient river you are gone, but the path it carved still remains. It will always be there, and any attempt to hide it will be transparent. But that is ok. I will not deny that I once knew and loved a girl named Christine —after all, you taught me to be honest to myself.
Goodbye is such a hard word to say. The first time I said goodbye it was hard. The second time was even worse. I don’t know how or when I can bear saying it a third time.
But this is a start.
