World Mental Health Day, 2018
It was the last thing I can remember thinking that day as I hugged you goodbye… When had your skin started feeling like paper?
When had I ever hugged you and not felt small?
We’d driven out to your house on the water that afternoon to see you for your birthday, and I still clutched the Bigfoot graphic novels I’d brought for you as we hugged, the only thing I could think to get the man who had everything. Your arms felt so strange against my back then, thin and shaky, not at all the ropey muscle I was used to, but then you pulled back and called me Bones with that same impish smile and all was nearly forgotten. It was always nice to see your blue eyes by the water, so close thru those big glass doors. You spent so many years by it, so much time, I like to hope that maybe the ocean calmed you, though looking back I’m not sure anything did…
Your eyes were grayer that day.
Susan took that picture of us in the kitchen, the last we’ll ever have, and I can’t remember even glancing at it then, though I’ve stared at it a thousand times since. I asked if we could go sit in the living room, so I could give you your present, and you nodded and led the way. We sat down in those comfy arm chairs by the window, and for a moment, your stormy eyes looked blue again.
“It’s silly.” I said of your present.
“My favorite kind.” You replied.
I had you alone for 10 minutes then, though it sometimes feels like hours now. Maybe I’ve spent too long living in that memory, a brief moment poured over and dissected, worried thin with too much attention.
I didn’t usually press further. I still don’t know why I did that day.
“You seem off today… have you been going to therapy?”
“I’m doing my meetings… Still up on my AA.”
“I’m glad. I’m really proud of you… but you know your sobriety and sanity aren’t the same thing, right?”
You got quiet then. I still remember thinking your hands were shaky.
“I can fly back and go with you if you want. Whenever you want. LA isn’t that far away, and it’s not like I’m working-“
But you shrugged it off then. Same confident smile magically appeared. Same nonchalant shrug.
“I’m alright kiddo, promise. Work has just been stressing me out too, you know how it is. The industry…”
You trailed off then. Another train pulled into that busy station behind your eyes.
“Thank you though, for looking out. Love you.”
I know those weren’t the last words I got to hear you say, but they’re the last I remember so clearly. There were more conversations, more hugs and laughs… but once I left that day, we never got to speak again, even across distances. In the following weeks, there were countless games of phone tag played and birthday messages left. I still remember crying my eyes out when that old phone died a year later and took those voicemails with it, but maybe it was for the best. Maybe the universe didn’t want me to haunt myself with your ghost any more than the world already does. Everyone always seems to need me to know how much they miss you. Funny how few ask if I need to know it, if I can bear the weight of their loss too. Still surreal, having strangers want to talk at you about the hardest day of your life. Not sure I should, but I’ve gotten used to it now. I take the hugs and tell them thank you.
It is nice to know you got that last message I sent thanking you for my beautiful birthday present, and the card that still makes me cry. You sent one back saying you were happy I loved it so much, and you’d call back soon.
And then 11 days later you were gone. I went to bed one night, and woke up in a new world the next. It’s strange, how quickly time has moved since. It crawled that day.
I’ve been asked before if I could go back, would I do anything different… If I could change our history, would I? Could I? Silly question anyways, a cruel thought experiment with no real answers, a fishing pole baited for clickable quotes in a world looking for distraction… but more often than not these days, I’m happy that was our last conversation. I wish we could’ve had a thousand more, but I’ve come to find a certain comfort in the set, solid concreteness of death. It’s heavy, its surface rough, but even after all these years it’s still there, corners smoothed by time, unmoved and still. I can’t change anything about the past, but there are so many other ways that last day could’ve gone, so many other words I could be pouring over years later…
Instead, you and I got to sit there, perched beside the quiet bay, and tell one other that they’re loved.
For all those suffering today and everyday, for all those who have been thru loss, for everyone pouring over things said and unsaid in this all too brief and bright journey we call a life, please know that while the past is set in stone, the future isn’t. We leave our footprints across wet concrete with each passing day, so before it dries tonight while you sleep, tell a person they’re loved, even if that person is you. Reach out and offer help when you can, or ask for it when you need it.
Cherish the damp, messy present for all its worth.
kianamaiart
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
blakekathryn
