The following text are copy pasted from one particular site. I found
this during my work and I found his story very touching. So much that I
want to save his article and share it before the URL of his will be lost
in memory. Nothing has been edited whatsoever (except that I took out
the images, they're not really insignificant. Just random images that
symbolizes the author's feelings).
"I don’t know what real
purpose this article serves. The subject of this story isn’t something I
ever thought I would be typing up for the site. Reason being that it
is not funny. It isn’t funny in the least. But since we are going the
whole “emotional, depressing” route this month, I feel that maybe this
will be a chance for me to let out something serious. Something that
isn’t me being angry about some inane happening, or berating a group of
people for whatever differences they may have from me. A chance to
really do something different.
I’ll be honest. I’m
hoping for a little of the ol’ self-healing through writing thing. That
maybe by expressing my feelings and retelling one of the darkest times
of my life I can come away feeling... SOMETHING at least somewhat
positive. Also I guess it stands as a way to honor one of the brightest
souls I have ever had the privilege of encountering in my lifetime. Do
you know that type of person? I hope all of you have or will have the
opportunity to meet someone as special to you as the person I am going
to speak of was to me. Someone that comes in to your life during a
depressing period and completely changes your world. Someone that makes
you strive to be a better person than you ever would have cared to have
been otherwise.
Sadly, it seems that our time with such people is often limited.
Some
names will be omitted over the course of this writing. I still keep in
touch with the family and friends of the person I am writing about, yet
I highly doubt they read this site. If they do, please trust that this
is meant to inspire a positive feeling of release from within me, and
not meant to be negative in any fashion.
A Fresh Start
That’s
what it was billed to me as by my parents. A “fresh start” at
everything. To be honest, I wasn’t changing schools because I wanted a
“fresh start.” I was changing because for some odd reason by the end of
my 10th grade year I was horribly depressed. I didn’t want to go to
school, didn’t want to talk to any of my at-the-time friends, and just
needed some sort of change. My decision to go to another school was as a
means of keeping my sanity, and not because I felt the need to start
over.
Of course being the new kid isn’t easy. Especially
when you are walking into a classroom full of kids who have been going
to school together since kindergarten. So aside from the speculative
whispers, oddball stares, and first impression judgements going on, I
considered myself lucky that things weren’t worse. I guess for the most
part things never got worse, but I ran into the usual obstacle of
finding that there were just very few people I had anything in common
with. I assumed I would go through the year making friends that I
really only talked to for the purpose of passing time, and I would
promptly never remember anyone I went to school with again.
But as fate would have it, I wasn’t the only new person just starting.
I
still recall where I was when I first saw her. I was in Chemistry and
awaiting the nail-biting act of having a partner assigned to me. All of
the other folks in class obviously knew each other and started pairing
off without delay. I noticed that the only folks left without partners
were... unsavory at best. I mean I pretty much had to pick from the guy
who more than likely was still wetting the bed, or a couple of girls
who, if I had been partnered with, I would have lived in constant fear
of being eaten by. I will forever be thankful that my Chemistry teacher
had the idea that two completely new students should probably be put
together.
Well, I wasn’t thankful for the first few
seconds. I recall rolling my eyes and wondering just what kind of hell I
was in for. A moment later all negatives thoughts were silenced when I
finally met my partner. She was absolutely beautiful. I will go on
record and say I have never seen such a beautiful woman since. That
weak in the knees feeling that I never understood, well I understood it
clearly at that moment in time. I’d like to tell you I played it cool,
but I can’t 100% confirm if I did or not. I’m going to go out on a limb
and say I didn’t. I’m imagining worst case scenario. I’m figuring my
voice probably cracked 1,000 times. We instantly hit it off. We talked
all the way through class, after class, and by lunch we decided we
would hang out after school. I could have talked to her forever, and
boy I really do hate talking to people. Her voice was nothing short of
enchanting. Each word that rolled off her tongue that perfect mix of
sweet, sexy, and sincere.
I went over to her home for the
first time that evening. Her mother answered the door, and I guess I
should have considered our interaction the First Sign. She seemed so
shocked that her daughter was actually having someone over. In our
brief exchange I had learned that apparently she hadn’t been feeling
well at all for awhile, so company was sort of off limits for a long
stretch. I do recall hearing the phrase “good spell” when speaking of
her health. I probably would have thought into it a bit more, but then
she walked down the steps and I started the swooning process all over
again.
The Next Few Months
I
don’t want to bore you with every little detail, and to be honest it
hurts more to talk about the happy times than the sad. We would spend
the next few months hanging out whenever possible, at school and outside
of school. My entire world revolved around this girl, and that was a
little scary for me to realize then. I think if it was anyone else I
would have possibly backed off, but something about her just continued
to draw me in every single day.
We talked for long
stretches on the phone. Let me tell you about my phone usage. I’m the
same guy who has 700 minutes on his cell plan but uses roughly 40 every
month. I was no different back then. But we would talk for hours upon
hours, sometimes about important things and sometimes about nothing at
all. As lame as it sounds, sometimes I just liked hearing her breathing
on the other line. Yeah, I’m a creeper. As incredibly corny and
wretch-inducing as it sounds, it just comforted me to know the world had
such a good person in it.
One night I recall a
conversation that sorta served as the first real tip that something
might not be quite right. We were discussing school, and talk of
college came up. It was being talked about heavily in my home at the
time, and I just wanted the opinion of a peer. When I asked what her
plans were for college, I got a very long silence and then an awkward
“I’ve got to go” for a reply. A little worrisome, but I made up a
million little excuses in my mind as to why she had to go. I think I
eventually figured she just had those sort of jitters teenagers get when
the end of school is slowly coming within reach and you realize you
have to venture out in to the real world soon.
As more
time progressed I noticed that she was missing school. Missing it a
LOT. When I would call to see how she was doing, it was always the same
thing. She was either “not feeling well” or “sleeping.” I was every
bit the gossip then that I am now, but I was too respectful to really
pry. I just assumed she had shitty luck when it came to health and was
probably catching a cold every week or something. Whole lotta denial
going on in my head this entire time. But we would still hang out some,
though not as much as I would have liked. I would take her homework to
her, most of the time having to settle for handing it to her mother and
getting the previous work in exchange to turn in. For a stretch of a
few months we went from seeing each other daily to once every couple of
weeks. Phone calls still happened sorta frequently, but were always
brief because she felt like she was going to be sick, or was tired and
needed to lay down for awhile. I could feel that ol’ depression
creeping back up on me.
I was back at a low.
And At My Door, She Appeared
We
hadn’t spoke (on the phone or in person) in a couple of weeks, and at
this point in time I wasn’t even sure if she still lived in the same
house. I went to deliver her homework one last time and her mother
informed me that she appreciates the help but it wouldn’t be necessary
any longer. When I asked if she was coming back to school, I was just
met with a firm “No.” That was the truth, as she never attended my
school again. I could feel the impact instantly. School once again
became that place I had to go whether I wanted to or not, with plenty of
friends but absolutely nobody I wanted to talk to. There was no
hanging out in between classes or after school. It was going from Point
A to Point B until my day concluded and I could get the hell out and go
home.
I had just gotten home from school one day, and
was about to sit down at the computer (and do WHATEVER people did on
computers back in the late 90’s), when there was a knock at the door. I
got up to answer it, and there she was. After weeks of silence, she
stood there smiling that smile that made me completely forget the
previous months and all of the depression I felt. What happened next
was goddamn oh so welcomed, but completely unexpected. Instead of
merely saying hello or hugging, we kissed. Like full blown, puddle of
spit forming underneath us (not true), kissed. No clue what motivated
her to do so, but I wasn’t complaining. We started heading toward my
room, doing that awkward stumbling and knocking over at least one or two
items walk folks do when they are kissing and trying to ambulate at the
same time. You’ve seen it in every shitty romantic comedy.
We
finally managed to make it into my room, and without going into too
many trashy details, we had sex. That’s really all I’ll say about it,
as I’d feel kind of shitty going into detail. It wasn’t my first time
with someone, but I’ll tell you it is the time that has stuck in my head
the most over the years. The moment was absolutely amazing. It would
be a few minutes later, after the initial period of regaining composure,
that I asked her if she wanted to start going out together. I mean, I
figure it was a pretty safe bet given the happenings of just a few
moments ago. This was when it hit. She was laying on her back, and she
proceeded to turn over to face me. There was a seriousness in her eyes
the likes of which I had never seen. She opened her mouth and I could
only assume that what was coming out was going to change my life for the
better.
“No. We can’t date,” was the exact quote.
What
the shit, man? I was instantly consumed in a quiet rage that I was
able to at least hide. I had to be in a stunned silence for at least 30
seconds or more. I was only able to internally cry. Before I was able
to even ask why we couldn’t, she answered for me.
“I have cancer, and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be around.”
Shoot
me in the fucking head. I mean, really? This has to be a joke. But
brother, I could look at her and tell that it wasn’t. Tears started to
well up in her eyes, as they did in my own. I did the only thing I knew
how to do, and from her outstretched arms the only thing in the world
that she assumed could help her at the moment. I took hold of her and
held her tight up till the point to where she had to go home. It was a
moment I wish never had to end, but like everything in life... it did.
The Last Few Months
She
knew personally that she wasn’t going to be around for a long time, but
I think my friend even underestimated how quickly that goddamned
disease would work her over. It was a mere handful of months later and
the change was noticeable. I could hear it in her voice, which rarely
carried that happy melody to it that I had grown to love so much. I
could see it in her eyes, how tired and worn out she was from her chemo,
billion doctor visits a week, and just the general fatigue of being so
sick all the damn time.
I tried to hang out with her all I
could, but she was making it more and more difficult. It was hard
enough seeing her so sick, but I still toughened up and spent all the
time with her that I could. After all, she was the best friend I had
ever had, and the first person in my life that I felt strong feelings
for. It was also hard to visit with her because there was a stretch of
time where she just didn’t want me there. She didn’t want me to look at
her, or touch her, or be around her. She insisted that she had become
so incredibly disgusting that she didn’t deserve to have friends or
anyone around her. Sadly enough, her list of many friends had dwindled
severely as they were just too busy or too freaked out to still interact
with her. Aside from her parents I was pretty much all she had. But
she still pushed me away for a good while.
I assumed it
was just a phase. Just a depression brought on by her lot in life. I
was correct, as there came a point in time where she really came around
and was seemingly happy again. She was still sick, and from the few
updates I got from her mother or from her directly she was not going to
be getting better. Anyway, there was a point where she seemed to be
doing at least somewhat better. She laughed again, smiled that
beautiful smile again, and welcomed me over as often as I could come.
We became sort of physical with one another again. We would have sex
several more times over the next bit. Though it was still nice just
because it was her, I would be incredibly paranoid the entire time.
Seeing
her undressed I could really tell for the first time at the toll that
had been taken on her. She had lost an incredible amount of weight, and
she didn’t have much to lose to begin with. Though she still was
amazingly attractive. During our goings-on I remember being so paranoid
that I was crushing her, or otherwise going to hurt her in some other
manner. I recall not being able to touch her without feeling bones.
I’d run my hands along her sides and feel nothing but ribs. I’d run my
fingers down her back and could feel every little bit of her spine. If
that sounds disgusting, and if it sounds off-putting... you just don’t
understand. I can’t be angry at you for not being able to, really. You
just had to be there I guess, and you just had to have the kind of
feelings I had for her.
Then there was our last day. I
think she knew it was going to be. I had no damn clue. She had
actually started to look a little better, had a healthier look to her
altogether. The last I heard of her prognosis it still wasn’t good, but
to sit and talk with her you’d forget that this was a soul not much
longer for the world.
Now this is where you really have
to excuse me. Our last conversation. Recounting this always brings
tears. Here they are right now as I type this. We had spent the entire
day together, lazing around watching movies and just enjoying our time
together. We laid on her bed watching a movie, when she intertwined her
fingers in mine. She told me that she had been thinking a lot, and she
finally knew what college she wanted to attend. That she was excited
to finally make up her mind and that she hopes that maybe it is one that
sounds appealing to me and I could go too. I told her I’d be more than
happy to do so. She also said that hopefully in a few months when she
is feeling better that we can start going out to do things. I told her I
would enjoy that. She then went on a tangent that I could only assume
was due to her being delusional or maybe she was just that full of hope.
She spoke of the future. Spoke of marriage, and children, and just
living a happy and healthy life. She said she would look back on this
time in disbelief and just laugh. She thanked me for always being there
for her, apologized for the times she pushed me away, and told me she
couldn’t see a future without me in it. That I was her best friend. I
let her know that she was mine as well. We kissed for a while. For a
very long while. Something about it seemed so final, and I would find
out soon why that was. The last thing we really spoke about was the
upcoming winter. She was too sick to really go out the previous year,
and she was excited about going out sledding. I told her of a few
places I knew about that were prime sledding spots. She excitedly asked
if I would take her, and I told her that of course I would. Her head
was on my chest, and I recall her looking up at me and smiling.
And right now if I could stop crying it would be nice so I can just finish this.
There
wouldn’t be any sledding for her that winter either. She never made it
to winter. She passed away suddenly (or not so suddenly considering
how sick she actually was but I blissfully was ignoring) the next day.
Her mother said she was violently ill that night, but insisted after
awhile that she was okay and just needed to rest. Her mother told me
that after she escorted her to bed she was leaving the room when her
daughter started laughing. When she asked her what she was laughing
about, she told her she was just thinking of a joke she had heard that
day that I had told her. Her mother would personally thank me for
making her laugh on what would be her last night, and for just being a
friend to her in general. That even during the times we weren’t
speaking her daughter would go on and on about me.
When You Just Can’t Be Strong
Her
funeral was the first I ever attended, and the only one I ever will. I
can’t do them. I put on as strong of a show as I could. For her, for
her family, and out of that foolish sense of male pride that I have
learned can go fuck itself over the years.
Inside I was
broken. This was not how life was supposed to be. I was in disbelief
that such a beautiful human being could be taken so young. I had
realized just how cruel the world really was. Just how pointless it all
was. Just how horrible it was to open yourself up. To let down your
guard and let someone in. To completely entangle your life with
anothers. That futility of loving something that is guaranteed to not
always be there.
After I got home from the funeral I went
to my room and just sat. I’m fairly certain the sun was up when I sat
down, and it was dark when my father stepped into my room. My father
has and always will be my idea of what a strong man is. We never had
many heart-to-heart conversations, but when he came through with one he
made it one for the ages. This was one such night. He told me that he
knew I was hurting, and that he could only imagine the hurt he would
feel if he was in my situation. He told me that what I had done was
such a selfless act, a true act of friendship, and something that he
will always be proud of me for.
He also told me that he
knew I was doing my best today to be strong for her family. He said
that was all good and well, but I couldn’t and shouldn’t keep up that
facade. That there was no shame in being emotional, and no shame in
breaking down. He told me that he probably gave off the impression over
the years that a man shouldn’t cry, and that a man shouldn’t show
emotions. He was quick to inform me that just because I didn’t see it,
he had his moments just like everyone else. That is when he laid it on
me. He told me that no matter how hard of a front you put up, no matter
how mighty of a man you think you are, that there are times in a man’s
life “when you just can’t be strong.” There was no shame in his words.
It was at this moment that I realized that he was right. That I could
walk around an emotionless husk for the rest of my life, or I could
begin the mourning process. He gave me that 1,000 pound grip on the
shoulder, and then walked out of my room, respectfully closing the
door... as he knew what was to come.
I cried.
Not
just a few tears running down, but a full-fledged bawl. I cried till
my chest hurt, I cried till the act of breathing hurt, I cried till I
was literally just going through the motions without any tears. I had
lost someone that I felt so strongly for. I had lost someone I loved.
Someone that, maybe foolishly since it was such a young age, I think I
could have spent the rest of my life with. At the very least someone I
wanted in my life for the remainder of it.
I still wish
the phone would ring sometime and I’d pick it up to hear her voice. To
hear the words dance off her tongue in those melodic tones that just
soothe whatever pain you are feeling. I long to feel her embrace again,
back when she was healthy and whole, the warmth coming off of her and
warming me to my very soul. I wish she was still breathing. I wish she
was still laughing. I was I could see her smile one more time. I
don’t know if there is a place for good people to go after they die, I
haven’t really come to a conclusion on that aspect of life... or life
after death as it were. But if there is such a place, I know she would
be there. She lived such a short life, but maybe that is how it was
supposed to be. Maybe she was destined for better things and better
places.
Closing
So, a
rare little glimpse at a heartache that would have otherwise stayed
hidden. I guess as I type out these last sentences, I have accomplished
something maybe. I’ve shed some tears, that is for certain. But I do
feel a certain sense of release. I guess even though I’ve cried a
billion times over my friend, I still haven’t fully let all of my
feelings out. I figure I’m just too stubborn and bottle up too many
things, but I’m working on fixing that.
I miss my friend.
I do wonder what life would be like if she was still alive. Such only
exists in the realm of speculation though, so it is hard to say. I
mourn the loss of her life, and I hate the fact that it ended before it
even really began. My only hope is that I was able to improve the
quality of her life during those troubling times. That maybe something I
said, or just holding her hand, or anything on my part made her forget
at least briefly about the pain, forget about what was to come, and to
forget the cruelty of the world.
I’m done. Don’t really
know what else to say. Time to finish this up, proof-read, and send it
on in so Depression Month has some more content. But this is more than
just content to me. It’s my heart opened up just briefly in remembrance
of a friend and in an effort to find some sort of relief. Yeah, gonna
send this in and then put my brave face back on and go back out into the
world. I’ll try my best day to day to be happy, to be caring, and to
be strong.
But you can’t always be."
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