Still on my mind...

It has been over two years. I was hoping to get past thinking about my lost friend everyday. Not so. If anything it has been more powerful than it was in the months after he passed.

I have a step son who has become my own and since had the joy of watching my youngest son born. The joy I had Christmas eve rocking him to sleep for his nap, tears welling up in my eyes at the preciousness I was holding, my thoughts quickly went back to you - How and why the hell would you give this up??? I fell through a million emotional floors. Thankfully my baby boy in my arms was like the safety railing I could grab for support. If I lost everybody in my life I would still have to be here for my boy.

You have to know, I have fought this. I thought I was an adult. I was married early in life. I owned a house. Had a full time job. But I hated my job. I had rooms get destroyed beyond my control. My marriage fell apart for many reasons. All this though led to hating what I could see I  the mirror. I had nitemares. Ones that would scare the strongest man or woman you know. It took me absolutely smashing into the rock at rock bottom. I actually smashed through it and discovered quicksand. When I was waist deep, I plunged my head under to make it pass quickly. The buoyant nature of the human body made my head pop up though and I was stuck just chin deep.

That's when I realized nothing would change. If I stayed under it would have been in vein. I was able to use my own brain - the one thing I had working against me most. The mind is indeed a terrible thing to waste. With negative thoughts or to silence thoughts. We have brains and a power of reasoning. The most important part of that power is to be able to reason on your own, with yourself. Some people just do it naturally. Others have to be told to. Yet others have to be told they can and that is a choice they have to consciously make.

I know people who have struggles with addiction. Addiction, like any other forms of mental illness, doesn't just get cured. Sure it can go dormant and repressed, but it's there. Even if you got a tattoo you hated removed, there is still some kind of scare. I never struggled with addiction.  I did have a period of surgeries at the height of my losing war with depression. Drugs were at the ready with what felt like unlimited refills. The drugs were needed, but man did they help more with the emotional pain.

I can't speak to addiction though. It does seem to me like a slow suicide. Some have revelations about themselves that help them realize who they are and what they are really worth. I wish I could have seen years into the future that I one day I would meet a woman who didn't care where I came from but rather about how I was with her in my life. I wish I could have seen a child who I had to become best friends with first,  and parent second. I wish I could have seen a baby that needed me as much as his older brother and mother.

I am fortunate now to count these blessings every day. If you think that's just mumbo jumbo it's not. I was only in my late 20s and thought I was way past my peak of life. I wish I knew it was still my rookie season.

Events of the world like the German airplane crash/murder/suicide spook me. What if I ever did the things I had thought? The potential injury to somebody else was never in my mind. The chain reaction of those who would have immediate impact never entered my mind. Also more importantly I was too scared to die. More scared of dying than being alive with what I was.

That's not a fear you can instill in somebody.  I wish I could put that in some people. I wish I could teach others how to do that for their friends and loved ones.

If you know me in any way, and you have something you are dealing with, I won't ever force you into a conversation...but if you share yours I will share mine. I will let you know you aren't and never were alone.

The Past Year

It has been one year since I last saw his face. The times I saw him before that were not necessarily "fun," but they were times spent with a good friend. Tomorrow is the anniversary of his services, and I know the past couple days have been extremely difficult for me to handle alone. My significant other and I have briefly discussed this. She knew it would be on my mind and just told me to do whatever I needed, say whatever I had to say, if it made me feel better. After one year, I have learned that I still cannot put my finger on how I feel. It is excruciatingly difficult to decipher the man I knew who helped shape me into who I am from the man who I feel took the coward way out.

Now, staring your own death in the face is certainly one of the scariest things I could imagine. It is the great unknown you are about to willingly enter. It is the end to all the problems that may have plagued you the past year, or all your life. What makes this cowardly, in my opinion, is the willingness to accept finality rather than self evaluation. It is so conflicting because I know most of my friends would have considered him brave. Which at the same time is probably who he was able to do what he did, knowing his next move was his last. I have been at this road before, but the only thing that stopped me was fear of the unknown. If I had done it, I would never know the joys that would come later in life, even if I had to suffer for 10 more years.

I woke up early this morning. My internal clock still stays in work week mode, but that's okay. The only problem is I remembered one year ago today I was ironing my darkest colored clothes to drive through the snow covered streets, into a snow covered parking lot, knowing I would see all my friends, knowing I may be a sobbing mess in front of my friends.

When I heard the news of what he did, I tried to cry. I had trouble. My son came out of the shower and had a few minutes before bed that I promised him we could spend playing with Legos. I literally said goodbye to my informant friend and got down on the floor fighting back the tears. As I talked about my friend with my girlfriend, I couldn't even force tears if I wanted to. I was sad, relieved, angry, and sympathetic all at once.

I would be a liar if I say I haven't had these same thoughts over the past year. I picture him, every single day, laying in his casket. I picture crying over his body as I stood up there alone. I remember the conversations with some of my friends who I hadn't seen in a while confess their problems to me. I picture them sometimes in that casket, and regardless of how often I may have seen them since, it saddens me greatly and I fear seeing them there that one time.

I don't know how most of my other friends feel at this point. I know his ex wife and son will feel the impact forever. I think I may feel it forever as well, though I hope one day it doesn't consume every free second of thought in my day.

I have been fortunate to have a lot of joy in my life the past five years. Anything else negative that has come my way is just a slice of life that we all must deal with but never have to be defeated by. I have seen people get cancer and fight through it. I have lost other things in my life that hurt, and I have not been able to enjoy financial freedom for nearly a decade - but I have been able to find joy in my life. Most of that stems from me just learning how to pull myself back off a bridge, without needing anybody else to do so for me. Living for myself and being my best self, especially this past year and beyond, will keep me afloat, whether I have the largest family or none, a car or just a crummy pair of shoes, a house or just the clothes on my back. I have been in those situations. I got through them, whether they came when I was younger or older. I can only recall the things I learned from those episodes to not let something like my friend's suicide take me down.

But it does. It's the most confusing things in the world. Just when I get a great memory, it is replaced with anger. Just when I start feeling sad and like I can release the flood from my eyes at any moment, I get mad. When I think about bringing him up and his suicide to my friends, it rocks me and I fear that I may never be able to get off the topic.

I have tried very hard for the past year, to push him to the back of my mind. I started this blog to help me heal. I realize now that it is a loss that I will never replace. This isn't a divorce that I chose to never see somebody again. This wasn't deciding not to be friends with somebody else anymore. This was about his choice. I do feel sometimes that he felt I wasn't good enough to stick around and be friends with for the rest of our lives, but then I recall he was a son, a husband, a father - and now he is a memory. A memory that in order for me to hold on to the good, requires me to hold on to the bad. I will never take the last year I knew him to be who he is. It was just who he was. I wish his son could see the man he truly was, and why he was worth crying over.

My dearest friend, I miss you. I cherished our memories, and I will never forget you. In every way possible. Thanks for reading.

Too Long Since You've Been Gone, Too Little To Write...

That feels like a horrible thing to say (the title, I mean). I had been able to control my emotions of losing you for a while now. Unfortunately, the ugly face of your leaving us has crept back into my mind. It weighs on me. It is not necessarily the "what could I have done differently" but rather the what ifs? Not even the "what if I did this for him? What if I did that?" No. It's the what if I was just able to pick up the phone and call him. Just to be able to call him up, share a story, share a laugh. I've been able to share many laughs with others, just not you.

I really don't know what more I could have written about you in the months since you passed and then since I last wrote. I was going through a struggle. I needed a source of strength for a minute to bounce how I was feeling off. Sure I have my significant other who is the most wonderful person I know. But there is something missing when a friend you've known forever can just listen to your thoughts. Unfortunately that friend ended the "forever" in the friends forever mantra.

One of the last times I saw my friend was at a football game. I knew of his straits then, and decided he could use an escape from reality and get lost with me at the game. It wasn't quite the case. I heard every single emotion that came from him that night, why he felt what he had felt. Why he didn't feel good enough. Why he felt better than he should. Very confusing. But I had been there before. Only the roles were reversed. I kept trying and trying to reiterate how, much like the simple song would suggest, you don't always get what you want but you will get what you need. Your exit wasn't what you needed. Perhaps he wasn't able to ever realize or never gave himself the chance to see that what he wanted maybe wasn't the best thing for him? I used to want some things that, when they didn't work out, almost took my life as a last straw.

He kept apologizing for monopolizing the conversation, but I listened to every word he said. It got to a point where I started to fear he may do something stupid. I feared for the thought of, "What's he going to do on the way home? Why did I let him get like this??"

That was the last time I saw my friend alive. I think long and hard about that night. This year, I went to a football game for the first time since. I felt it. I felt your impact from that night. That's when it dawned on me that was the last time I saw you. My heart was heavy, and I was suffering inside throughout. When I thought about how I wish I could call you to discuss this, it dawned on me again I didn't have that privilege anymore. I instantly had the picture of you from your service. You often hear people say, when somebody has passed who was suffering, "Well, at least he/she is in a happier place." I will call bull on that statement. There was nothing peaceful about his facial expression or his body language. I know it wasn't his to control, but what I saw was not my friend. I know his life is at peace now while the others he left behind are still picking up pieces.

Every day it makes me realize that a little piece of me is still missing. I know your leaving affected others even deeper and will have life-long impacts. I never thought that of you. Never thought you would knowingly put people through this for the rest of their life. I do understand you thought it would resolve all the other problems for everybody you thought you were a problem to. It is the most twisted of logic, but I understand it. I have been there with that rationale as well. I realize how wrong it was, and nothing will ever make me that way again. I just wish you could find the joy that comes in life after having overcome yourself. The worst part of yourself is unfortunately what people last saw you.

I hate this. I wanted to start sharing some good, positive thoughts on this issue in my life, but alas by the time I had gone to the website, opened up this blog, clicked on new post, I had started twisting everything around again.

I read many times this is typical of a survivor of suicide. It isn't a topic you get to put a stop to on your own. The thoughts of it end when my life ends. It's more like I'm enduring your suicide. I will endure it the rest of my life, and hopefully have to endure it for another 100 more years of my life.

Even after it has ended, your life still means as much to me today as it did a year ago, a decade ago, two decades ago and beyond.

Maybe this post helps me go on a couple more months without getting bogged down again. I feel like I can refocus on the mundane tasks when my mind normally wanders. I hope if you read this it doesn't open up any fresh wounds, but just rather as a topic you can relate to.

An Example...

Well, it has been a very long time since my last post. It feels like years have passed by since I learned about your passing on February 4. I guess now I can start breaking down the time you've been gone in fractions of a year. One third of a year without you. I have changed jobs, which you would have been proud to see me accomplish. I have started my path back to being stronger than ever physically, something I know you always like to witness. I also was at your son's birthday party, took a grand vacation with my family, and have greater plans for the summer. I have also started reaching out more to another friend who I know has struggles.

This person was at your funeral, and said that he/she would be lying if they said that he/she never thought of what you did. I told him/her, "Do you see what this has done to me? To the people in this room? The anger, the sadness, but no real celebration of life. You have much more than that to offer your friends." In several conversations since with him/her, I have told that person that what you did was not an option. Does he/she want to be talked about the what-could-have-been scenarios, the arguments as to the why's of the situation, or perhaps the feeling of somebody having to live with knowing they could have done more (even though deep down we know we couldn't)? I always used you as an example for some things in life. You exhibited a confidence and poise not often matched by others. When things went awry, I know you lost it and couldn't overcome it alone. I will be God damned if I let somebody else go through it alone.

I always tried to use myself as an example, but I guess to the person struggling, it is hard to take my words seriously as you see me with smiles, confidence, and poise I learned from my late friend. Plus, I have what I wanted - a family, a home, and a belief in myself to get through my life, whether I had that or not. I know one day that he/she will make it through, and perhaps then he/she can relate to me better. I hate that I have to bring you up as an example of what the worst case is. You are the short term, with the longest term of impacts.

The worst part is, I wish there was some way I could reincarnate you. I would detail my feelings and thoughts from the past 4 months to you so you knew. But then how could I know for sure if I could not help my other friend? Maybe he/she would be the one I use as an example to you to keep you here. The sickening part of it is I wish you BOTH were here. Yet, if one didn't happen, the other might not be here. I love both of you, my late friend and other friend. The key in my life, my objective for as long as I am allowed to live on this planet, is to not make the term "late friend" plural. For the most part, my friends and I are young - even early 20's to late 30's. Things will happen that will hurt us in our life. Things will happen beyond our controls. Accidents or nature may take our lives. But I will never let you all leave by your own hand.

Leading by example has always been what I have hoped to achieve. I am not the skilled carpenter. I am not the master painter. I am not the closest person to rely on for a quick hand with anything. But I am experienced. I am, for a lack of better words, wise to struggle and near deathness. I have been to both ends of the road. You, as an example of what others could feel and also not ever being able to picture myself in the casket, are a road block back to the other end. Sure I may go in reverse once in a while. Luckily your road block happens very close to the end of the goodside of the road, with no side streets there to allow me to find another way. There is only one other way, and that is the correct path back.

So, that being said, father's day is rapidly approaching. I usually at least text out to all my friend's who are dads, if not conversate with a couple of them. I can't believe I have to not inclue your name there anymore. I still have your name in my phone. Don't know why. But it is there. I can't stand myself to delete you. It feels like a way for me to deny you the ability to have completely deleted yourself from my life. This brings nothing back, but a sadness come Sunday when I know you won't even get a card. Instead, you will probably be thought about and missed. And it will hurt. It will hurt your friends like me, and I can't imagine your own father, let alone your surviving family members.

I certainly didn't intend for this to be so negatively fueled. I guess in the time since I have written my last post, I have been able to focus my feelings and energy on this prevalent topic in my life a little better. At the root of it all is indeed sadness. However, from sadness breeds my contempt at the situation.

To those who still read this of my friends, his surviving family, or others who have struggled and stumbled across this blog, I implore you to stand tall. You may never get this part of your life back, but you still have your life. My friend showed me what it has been like to officially lose your life, and I guess he still found a way to indirectly lead by example.

Happy Birthday

Today you would have turned my age...33. The past two months have dragged on tremendously without you around. We are celebrating your birthday today for the first time without you. Perhaps "celebrate" is the wrong word. Tribute? In honor of? Memorial? I cannot find the appropriate term as I am still at a loss of positive feelings about the way you left.

A normally joyous occasion for anybody, today is not. I guess some of us all need to have this night to move on. The other day I asked his widow where he was buried so that I may pay his grave a visit today. She informed me he was cremated and sent back across the ocean with his parents in Europe. She profusely apologized for that, but hey, you can't argue with the kind gesture to support his parents. No problem there. It actually relieved me a little bit. For 2 straight weeks, all I could think about was this day, visiting his grave site. I didn't have to go. Good thing, too. I probably could've broken down. He probably would come back to my mind even more. Haunt my feelings.

This has been an extremely weird circle of events. His suicide came so early in the year, and as I have said before every day feels like I spent it moving through molasses. The fight to make it through the day got a little easier after maybe 6 weeks, but there were still moments. Then, all of a sudden, an extremely unpredictable situation arose at work, and suddenly I am worried about whether or not I will have a job. THAT thought has consumed me, but alas tonight, a night where we commemorate his life that ended in the worst way, I get a break. I will probably shed some tears, and hopefully a lot of laughs.

What the night holds I don't really know. It is not quite a party for me. It is not a funeral, either. I think it is more of a night of appreciation. Appreciation for each other, the love of friends, the bonds through memories, the recollection of all things together. Even if it is just on this one day, April 5, for the rest of my life, I hope it holds up. 

It is quite appropriate, as today's weather started on the chilly side, and has now blossomed into an amazingly temperatured day. Far different than the snow on the ground, bitter cold day I last saw him. Perhaps the warmer weather can dry up those tears quicker. Perhaps the shaking in my knees as I approached your casket will be replaced by the rush of an increased heart beat when I offer a hug to the loved ones he left behind. I hope so. Maybe this is the first step in the multifaceted recovery phase for me.

I need to get it out right now before I start belting it out bringing everybody down tonight...My sadness and this empty spot in my heart came from losing my friend. The pain, hurt, anger, excruciating sorrow I feel is because I know for a fact he helped me get through my darkest hours. He did it. Some people say God will guide you through tough times. Regardless of what you believe, and maybe they were sent from God, but my friends pulled me through. They carried me to a better me, much like the ultra religious believes God carries them. They were there no matter my choices or decisions, but always offered whatever they could. None of them had ever suffered from the depression I had within. It caught them off-guard, actually. When I could admit that it stemmed from more than just recent events in my life at the time but rather was attributed to most of how I lived my life, all my life, my friends once again propped me up. The realization that it was a lifelong battle and process of healing, and knowing how to heal, was the greatest revelation they ever led me to. That is why it was so upsetting to me. I was fortunate to not be the one who found his body. I was fortunate not to be the one who had mixed emotions about him at the time of his passing. I was unfortunate to have viewed him as a brother for my whole life, who gave me so much, but could not see that he had great things still for him in this life, on this planet. The people he left behind plus the circumstances around it will always cloud my mind. Every positive I can think of about you reverts to some sort of "How dare you do this to person X, Y, Z???" 

Maybe next year, in this forum, I can relay my excitement about meeting up with the gang again. If 2 people, 20 people, 200 people show up, I know why I am going. I don't think I was ever fully doing this before, but now is the time to start to heal. 

I have nothing but love for everybody in his family, near and far. I have nothing but love and appreciation for all my friends who were a part of his life either in the good times or dark times or both throughout his life. We all were a part of why he was the great person I wish I could always remember him by. He is the one who tarnished the image. Hopefully today gives enough paint thinner to knock some of the tarnish off.

Happy birthday, my friend. Though you are not with me, I still hope that whatever energy you left behind or put into this world can feel the love and appreciation we all still have for you. 

Thank you.

Gone?

I cannot help but realize this - whenever somebody leaves me, be it via leaving my workplace, moving away, taking a job elsewhere, I lose touch with people. They left me, so they are left out of my mind forever. Sure, every now and then a memory or two sneaks in. But this is different. The memory is there all the time. There are two memories. There are the great ones where I recall my 20+ year friendship with somebody. Then there is the memory of the night I heard the news. The day we sat in a circle of friends with our heads spinning around the situation. The day I saw your mother crying out. The day I saw you for the last time.

You left my life, like other people have before, but no in a way I have ever thought was possible. This has come up to me lately as this past Sunday I drove past your old house. The last place you were alive. I looked over while driving down the road but had to look away. 

I have been fortunate enough to get back to focusing on the things I need to do to get through the day like I am supposed to. However, every break or free second I have you on my mind. The family he left behind is very difficult to talk to, even though I know his spouse would talk to me in a heart beat. He is still totally all throughout my mind, but in order to not bring anybody else down I have kept it to myself. Almost like we are keeping no memories alive anymore. 

You know what else I have noticed since his suicide? There are a lot of put-off statements like "I would rather kill myself than XYZ..." It is weird, but I have never noticed. I know I always used to talk like that as well. I don't think I have even muttered these words in the 44 days since I heard about his death. I have heard several other people say it, and I shudder. I know it is just a way of talking and an expression. I know that I will personally never throw away a line like that, though. 

I am rambling a bit. I have tried my best to work through this on my own, but once in a while I need an entry to just get out the residual. I realize that I would also like to help somebody who may have lost somebody recently or help those who stumble across this and can see that it has been painful for somebody who lost a person they loved like a brother. I said earlier it has only been 44 days since the news spread. The past 44 days have felt like months on end. The past few years have flown by me and time has certainly been taken for granted. Maybe I am paying more attention to every detail of every day so that I may keep the image of my friend's corpse out of my mind. These details can be counted down by the second, and I feel like I am living through every second rather than looking up at a clock and seeing another hour or two has passed.

I know many of my friends have gathered their lives back together after this. Sure, I bet many of them have some sort of internal suffering, anger, questions. I have them, and it's because I once stood on a fine line between the choice he made and the choice I chose to make. Those people who know me informally and not necessarily as a confidant would think this was because of a painful divorce I went through. The divorce was painful because it was culmination of things combining in my head that formed who I had become, all coming to a flurry when I thought I was losing what was what I HAD THOUGHT was the best thing to ever happen to me. Eventually, after getting the help I needed, I concluded the best thing to happen to me was actually me, and I have been able to enjoy life since.

I do know the unbearable pain. I know what it is like to wish physical harm on myself to make it stop. I know for a few years I thought there was no other way my life could be. I used to privately live by a motto of "I'm only happy in my misery." It's a line from a song, and it was so applicable. Even after I had caught up with my friends after years of separation, I hid the pain. I still had my bleak outlook. Even though they could tell something was wrong and they tried to lighten my mood, I still came home to the same pain. 

I am still wondering and questioning why I am still hear, typing about somebody who isn't. It is almost like survivor's guilt. I have read a lot that suicide survivors have a guilt, but this is a little different. The survivor's guilt is more like a "what more could I have done" thing. Mine is similar, however more along the lines of "why couldn't I show him what I saw." May not make sense to you, but what if any other person I know crosses similar troubles to what my friend did? How the hell am I supposed to show them keeping their head above water still means they are swimming? That they still have that power within to keep themselves afloat and facing the right direction to breathe in the air of life?

Certainly I did not intend for this entry to take the direction it did. But you know what? If it is one thing I have learned in my life, it is that whatever I said or wrote is what I honestly and truly feel. No need to read through it and delete or change things. If I do that, then I keep them within. Just because I have not written anything in a couple weeks certainly has not meant that I have moved past this thing. His son's birthdays will keep growing in number. Our high school reunions will continually pop up. My family will grow, and he won't get to see it. Our remaining friends will have life highs and lows that we could have been through together. It is still a very real, weird, hurtful, painful reality to think about you not with us anymore. The finality of it always having to be this way is still unacceptable to me. Regardless, I am powerless to change it.

Thank you for reading.

I had a dream...

On Thursday night I was so completely drained. I had gone several days at that point focusing on everything else around me rather than continuing to picture my friend in his casket. I had woken up real early to travel around New Jersey for work, and when the sports talk radio bored me I listened to some music from the band Volbeat. They have a song dedicated to the lead singer's father, called "Fallen." Some of the lyrics in there brought forth some of the emotions I guess I was repressing. It is tough, 10 minutes before I arrive to a job site, to wipe away the remaining tears I have from this whole situation. After a long day at work I went home and was almost asleep by dinner time. I was quite the curmudgeon before I finally shut my eyes at a very early 9 p.m. What Was going to happen during my sleep I would have never guessed.

I don't know how long it was, but that's the thing about dreams. I don't know why they happen or if there is really any meaning behind them. So, I had a dream where my friend came back as an apparition, as a "ghost" of sorts. I don't remember where I was when I discovered him, but all I know is I was walking through some hallway, approaching a stair case. And he was at the top. I always imagined if I could somehow bring him back to just give him one more diatribe from me I would make sure he knew how bad this would hurt the people he loved more than he could ever understand. Instead, when I saw him, in his funeral outfit with a light yellow haze around him, I ran up the stairs. He appeared just like how the spirits of Luke Skywalker's fallen mentors would in the Star Wars films. Cheesy, I know, but hey it was my friend. And he could react to seeing me.

I ran up the stairs, and we extended our hands out for that quick handshake pull-you-into-a-hug thing we have always done. Only difference was this time my hand passed through his and I collapsed through his image, crashing into a wall. He turned around and said "Sorry man, but this is who I am now." I looked at his eyes, remembering how I wish they were open one last time so I could speak directly into them and let him know it wasn't worth it, but I was so glad to see him. All I could muster up was a "I'm glad to see you man."

I don't exactly remember everything we did, but whatever else I was supposed to do that day was no where near as important as spending time with him. I got to hear him laugh. One of my goals whenever I would hang out with him was to make him laugh so hard he would be squinting his eyes. He actually slapped his knees at a knee slapping moment. It almost felt like he sought me out, and this moment was for us. I think that much like in the Star Wars movies, he would pop up frequently. However, our day was approaching midnight, and then he broke the bad news to me. I can still hear the words from the dream...

"Duba, I hate to do this to you, but I have to leave you now. I know I have already 'left', but I have to move on. I don't know if I can ever come back or if I will ever see you again."

Then, I finally got mad. I laid into him. The worst part was it made no difference. It couldn't. Even though the positive feelings and outlooks I tried to provide him when he was alive made no difference, he could actually look at me, in his apparition form and I could see the regret in his eyes. I screamed at him that this could be an every day thing after we (me and all of his other friends/family) helped you get up and over your internal turmoil. I was yelling the question "Why couldn't you wait it out?!!" As I got madder and madder he slowly closed his eyes...the energetic glow around his spirit began to fade, and he was lost in the dust. I knelt down, angry, and then realizing that after I got to finally say my piece to him, he still wasn't around. There was dust left on the ground that stood under the fake image of his feet. I picked some up to remember him by and left. I went home, put the dust in a vial, and laid down next to my girlfriend and began to tell her of my day, and I eventually fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, rolled over to look at the clock and saw that it was 3:00 a.m. I realized that I was awake for real, and no longer dreaming. I got up and looked around, hoping to see if any of that dream was real, but I realized I was in a Z-quil induced stupor as I stumbled around. I could not go back to sleep. The thought he was right in front of me in that dream spooked me. The angry things I said to him do not make me feel better. Having the opportunity to be able to express these thoughts - the want to tell him it was irresponsible, selfish thing to do to his family, and the most hurtful thing anybody has ever done to me - did not make me feel any better. NONE of these things would replace him.

Do not get me wrong, I would love the chance to still let him know these feelings, but I would also be quick to tell him how those emotions are quickly replaced with sadness. I have been trying to memorialize him in my other forum. I had some fantastic memories with him. Unfortunately I can only see through the keyhole of the room that they are all stored in. At least I found that room. My vision of who he was for the first 32 years of his life are replaced with the last two times I saw him. It is rough, and I know the anguish and pain he kept inside was there all along, but when he started to wear it, it has made it very difficult to remember who he was before it came to the surface. The worst part of this to me is knowing that deep down he always had the potential to think so little of himself to actually pull this off. To actually one day go through with the unthinkable. There isn't one memory I can see through that keyhole where I don't look away because the image of him in a casket is plastered everywhere else in my mind.

This one was not easy to write for me, but through reading and rereading my own words, I realize that I am feeling a little better. I certainly lost something one month ago when I heard the news. It was more than a friend. At least I am starting to find the memories again.

Thanks for reading.