It was so cold that night. Too cold for only being the beginning of fall. You were so excited for this time of year. You said that all you wanted was to see the leaves change colors. And you did. We even brought in a small pile from outside so we could look at it for reassurance before we fell asleep...making sure that the fall's hypnotic colors weren't anything less than reality.
That night was supposed to be the best of them all. Getting into what became our routine...looking at photo albums, followed by a glass or two of Black Opal Cabernet with your parents and then watching The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. Afterwards we slowly and silently tip toed to bed. I was so goddamn cold it was hard for you to hold me at first because I felt like an icicle. But you warmed me up quick, and it felt so so good.
We drifted in and out of sleep, reassuring eachother of our presence every time we shifted our bodies. It was going to be such a nice end to this all.
It was until it happened. Waking up to the feeling like someone sucked all of the air out of my lungs as something else was grabbing my whole torso and putting it in between vice. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think. It was all I could do to throw my clothes on and collapse on the porch with only enough strength to light my ciggarette.
I sat there, freezing cold. Who knows which one of my current crisis' set this panic attack off. All I knew was that was all it took to get myself on the porch, chain smoking, and feeling just as alone as I was before you came to visit.
I had moved too quickly and quietly to rouse you from your sleep, so I sat there by myself, head in my hands, contemplating what was going to happen when you would no longer be my side to soothe my anxious mind and rub my back and quietly whisper that everything would be okay, that I would be okay.
After my fourth cigarette I returned to bed to find him rubbing his eyes, asking me what had happened, where had I gone, was I alright? I still couldn't breath, so he told me to lay on my back as he stroked my hair and put his face next to mine and told me to just be.
So I did. And when I went to ask him what I was to do when he left, I hesitated and just closed my eyes and did as he had told me to, because it was then that I realized how important it would be for me to learn how to just "be" when he left.
The next day after we took a walk, I regretfully drove you to the airport. I didn't cry in front of you, but it took every bone in my body to keep those tears back. You kissed me and promised me that it would all be okay. That I would be okay.
His life is far away from here. We've been friends for many years, and I have no doubt that we will be friends until death. But I miss him every day. And when I call, it's not quite the same. But he makes sure I know that he's there for me, and I for him.
It was an odd experience at the end of it all. So many emotions for such a short period of time. It's hard to know that I don't have exactly that, now that he's gone. But what he left behind was more important. The lesson of being able to just "be". To feel so weak and have someone come and go so quickly, and give you just a little boost of inner strength meant so much.
So dear, I hope you're well. I hope it's sunny where you are and she's beautiful, and that you're reading a good book. I hope the flu's gone and you're keeping your house clean. I hope the bar was fun on Friday night and you made yourself a great Halloween costume. I hope you miss me a little. And if you wonder about me, I hope you know that I'm alright. I just am.
Thank you.
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