Ali-b's

I wasn’t his best friend, but he was mine.

Over the last week I’ve watched so many people publically mourn. I’ve resented people making his death a spectacle to gather more attention… I’ve bit my tongue, balled my fists, and choked back tears… But you know what?

When life was chaos - he knew he could stop by - no matter what - for a cup of coffee and a good conversation. I didn’t stroke his ego or baby him - I told him when I thought he was screwing up, and I told him when I saw how hard he was trying to improve his life.

No matter what, I didn’t condemn him… And he listened to my melodrama, made me laugh, and told me to shut up if I was being stupid.

I may not have been his best friend, but he was mine - and for 2 years - I offered him sanctuary and let him know he was always welcome.

He’s dead now. I’m sad, yeah. I’m sad I felt so wildly out of place at his funeral. I’m angry his baby-mama wore flame red and kissed him during the eulogy -as if they had any sort of working relationship with each other. I’m sorry all I could do was offer him a cup of coffee - when he obviously needed so much more… But I’m happy to have met him, and to have had him in my life for 2 years.

I’ll miss having someone to vent to, and I’ll miss drinking coffee together. I’ll wonder about all the things I said “no” to, and I’ll remember all the support and kindness he showed me.