I remember the feeling of being completely heartbroken all too well. Feeling so cliché as if there were no possible way a light could be at the end of that deep, dark tunnel. When I would lay my head down at night, all around me was quiet and still, making it simple for the devil to roam his personal playground; my lonely mind. I had a haunting past, but those unspoken events were so long ago they hardly made a difference to the events that had happened so much more recently. I also remember what it feels like for all those feelings to disappear in a half a second like they had never existed in the first place. There are certain traumatic events every human will deal with at some point in their lifetime. We all have or known someone who has dealt with a personal medical issue, tremendous break up, who has lost a loved one, or fought with a family member. It’s a fairly common list that can continue to go on, however, it’s a list that normally happens over an extended period of time. Within only weeks, I dealt with multiple events at once.
Of course as any tragedy may go, it was a normal day just like any other. My grandfather had given me a ride home from work seeing as I did not have my own vehicle, and I was ready to knock out what little bit of chores I had and try to relax. It was more quiet in the apartment because my roommate was at work and we didn’t have cable so I had no way of watching Super Bowl 50. I quickly tried to get to my cleaning done, ready to sit down after already being all my feet for the first 8 hours or so of the day. We had glass coffee and end tables in our living room, trying to achieve a much more modern day look for our interior, so they required to be cleaned much more often because they made smudges and fingerprints more apparent. Our end tables were rather smallish, and shoved into a corner among many other things. As I was cleaning off this particular table, I pushed an item behind it. To this day, I can’t remember exactly what said item was. To me, because the table was so small, it was easier to bend over and grab it rather than moving everything out of the way. That was where I went wrong.
I suddenly lost my balance and fell right through. The metal frame around the table had caught me, leaving me lying on top of it in an intensely awkward position. As I looked below me and saw the shards of broken glass, my thought process impelled, sending messages to my body to help me maneuver my way back onto my feet without cutting myself. Once I was back on my feet I realized there was already a tremendous amount of blood on the ground, my eyes continued to follow up to the toes on my right foot, up my leg, and stopped at my knee. I had a gash that would put the scar on the chin of Harrison Ford to shame. It was an admirable thing to myself at the time that I thought as fast as a racing locomotive, because I swiftly grabbed a small blanket lying next to me and wrapped a tight tourniquet around the wound. I made a phone call and my grandpa was rushing me to the hospital. Before I knew it the adrenaline was gone, and the tears were rolling down my face as the doctor poured saline into my open flesh, calling out every curse word that hadn’t even yet been used. Twelve stitches and one immobilizer on my leg later, I was on my way back home for not just the physically difficult couple weeks I knew to come, but the emotional roller coaster I would have no warning of.
At the time I had been with the same man for just a few weeks short of what would have been two years. Bill and I had dealt with some rough patches in the recent months, but things were starting to get better, or so I thought. A week after my little accident, he was picking me up from work to take me home. Chatting about our days like we would any other night. There was some kind of dreadful vibe between us, as if something was awry, but I couldn’t quite pin point it. I decided to speak up and ask. His tone instantly changed. He began to go on a ventilation about how he no longer wanted to be with me and his love for me had been gone for some time. I quietly accepted these words knowing there was no way to change it, and waddled my way into my home. I could feel the numbness spreading throughout my body bearing into my soul as I limped my way up the stairs to lie in bed. I knew in the back of my mind I would be okay, but it didn’t make it any better for the moment. I started to become introverted, alone in my thoughts, trying to figure out exactly how to move on.
A few days later, I finally started to gain a bit of my spirit back, for it to briskly be clawed away once again. I woke up that morning feeling much more confident in myself, and began to carry out my morning routine. I turned off my alarm, sat up to wake myself up, and start to scroll through Facebook. Only a few stories down into my news feed, a link for a Go Fund Me page appeared titled “Funeral for Anthony.” I began to slightly panic, trying not to work myself up too much yet. The picture shown was of my friends Anthony, Kyle, and another man I did not recognize. Of course I didn’t want to see anyone pass, a part of me was hoping the John Doe was also named Anthony. As I opened the link, my heart sank deep into my stomach. It wasn’t for my John Doe. It was for my beloved friend, Anthony. He had accidentally shot himself while trying to dismantle his hand gun before bed. I burst into heaving sobs. I had never lost a friend before and this was an unfamiliar feeling that was more dark than I would have ever wanted to know. He was a kind hearted, young soul of which had recently reach only twenty-one years of age. He was a mutual friend of mine and my now ex, along with many others. The funeral followed shortly after. It was surprisingly open casket; they were able to hide his wounds with his favorite ball cap he wore every time I had ever saw him. It was the largest funeral I had ever attended. There wasn’t an open seat at the showing, and even more people flooded around standing in the aisles, on the sides and wherever they could. We shared our memories. We laughed. We cried. We mourned. We met afterwards at a local bar to do what he would’ve; drink some beer and share our time together. A large group of close knit friends who considered each other family, who at the time didn’t know that would be one of our last gatherings together before we slowly would go our separate ways. It is remarkably prodigious how one person can be the one thread that holds the whole quilt together.
About a day after the funeral, I see a friend post on Facebook a dog tag necklace with Anthony’s picture on it, and immediately I wanted one for my own. They had also posted a link of the website where they had ordered one and it was nearly $60! As much as I wanted one, I only worked a part time job and barely got by, $60 was a lot of money for me to spend. My grandmother had mentioned how when my stepmom’s brother passed away several years back, my dad had the same thing made with his picture on it for everyone in her family. My dad had always been a bit of a cheapskate, so it was easily assumed he had found quite a deal on those. It should be mentioned that my father and I had a falling out of our own a year prior, because I was tired of repetitive empty promises from him. However, that’s another story of its own. Seeing that one of my close friends had recently died, I thought that I may be able to get some kind words and help of information from him. I sent him a text message explaining the loss of my friend and wanting to know where he had gotten the dog tags in previous years. It was later in the evening, so I wasn’t expecting a text back immediately. Nearly 24 hours passed and I hadn’t received anything back yet. I began to assume he had changed his number or perhaps just didn’t want to talk to me at all. Soon after I received a text full of profane language and hurtful words about how I should be apologizing before talking to him about anything. I told him how my friend passed and I just wanted something to remember him by, and my father replied with laughter and comments made clear to leave him alone.
I was crushed. My father had once again disowned me in a time of need of losing someone dear to me. The man who I had thought was the love of my life had left me while I was temporarily impaired. It seemed as if my life around me was falling apart. For a month or so I just went with the motions. I’d wake up, go to work, come home, cry myself to sleep, repeat. I knew I needed to do something to better the situation, but I was in so deep I didn’t know how. A friend suggested I try to get myself back on the market and try dating again. I insisted I wasn’t ready, and although she agreed, she stated how even though I may not be ready for a relationship, it may help to try to just have a little fun again. So I did so. The immobilizer was off my leg, so I was able to use my roommate’s car to drive around again, and could physically do a lot more.
I had always been a bit socially awkward when it came to meeting new people, so I did myself a service and set up profiles on dating and meet sites like OKCupid, Tinder, and MeetMe. I found a few cute fellows to talk to, but none that clicked enough to want to meet or go out in person with. Although while it was true I was not trying to settle down with anyone, if I was going to date around I at least wanted them to be men I knew I could get along and have fun with. I finally came across one profile on Tinder, of a strikingly handsome, green eyed, dirty blonde man. Decided to swipe right and it was a match. We got to talking and I finally decided to offer him my number. A few seconds late I received a text message telling me it was Anthony.
As we got to talking, he had told me he had already met me before and my mind flashed back to work a few weeks before. I was an employee working customer service at Best Buy. It was a Saturday evening and we were really busy. The line seemed to keep building up with more and more customers. Then I noticed a taller man with electrifying green eyes and dirty blonde hair walk in wearing what appeared to be the uniform of a mechanic, holding a laptop. He seemed a bit lost if he needed to be in my line at customer service or over at Geek Squad. I recalled hoping he would come into my line so I could talk to him with my newly arising flirty nature. He walked over to Geek Squad as my eyes followed him, only for him to turn my way and lock his eyes to mine. A shot of electricity flashed through me as he sent me texts telling me that was him.
Immediately we planned to meet up that upcoming Friday; he wanted to take me on a date. I met him outside of TGI Friday’s at the Greenwood Park Mall. I arrived earlier than he did, fiddling with my phone as I waited, feeling a little more nervous than I had in some time making the few minutes I was there seem like an eternity.
My eyes looked up from my phone and locked with his again, the same electrifying feeling racing through my body as I shoved my phone in my pocket trying desperately to be anything but rude. He hugged me and everything negative was gone. Every feeling of depression, hopelessness or despair left in that very moment, and in that moment none of the traumatic events that had recently happened mattered. In that moment I knew my dating around fun was officially over. I had found my one that would change my life forever.
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