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?Β
Weβd driven out to your house on the water that afternoon to see you for your birthday, and I still clutched the Bigfoot graphic novels Iβd 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 Iβm not sure anything didβ¦Β
Your eyes were grayer that day.
Susan took that picture of us in the kitchen, the last weβll ever have, and I canβt remember even glancing at it then, though Iβve 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.
βItβs silly.β I said of your present.Β
βMy favorite kind.β You replied.
I had you alone for 10 minutes then, though it sometimes feels like hours now. Maybe Iβve spent too long living in that memory, a brief moment poured over and dissected, worried thin with too much attention.
βYou ok Poppo?β I asked.
I didnβt usually press further. I still donβt know why I did that day.Β
βYou seem off todayβ¦ have you been going to therapy?β
βIβm doing my meetingsβ¦ Still up on my AA.β
βIβm glad. Iβm really proud of youβ¦ but you know your sobriety and sanity arenβt the same thing, right?β
You got quiet then. I still remember thinking your hands were shaky.Β
βI can fly back and go with you if you want. Whenever you want. LA isnβt that far away, and itβs not like Iβm working-β
But you shrugged it off then. Same confident smile magically appeared. Same nonchalant shrug.Β
βIβm alright kiddo, promise. Work has just been stressing me out too, you know how it is. The industryβ¦βΒ
You trailed off then. Another train pulled into that busy station behind your eyes.Β
βThank you though, for looking out. Love you.β
I know those werenβt the last words I got to hear you say, but theyβre the last I remember so clearly. There were more conversations, more hugs and laughsβ¦ 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 didnβt 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 Iβve gotten used to it now. I take the hugs and tell them thank you.Β
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 youβd 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. Itβs strange, how quickly time has moved since. It crawled that day.
Iβve been asked before if I could go back, would I do anything differentβ¦ 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 distractionβ¦ but more often than not these days, Iβm happy that was our last conversation. I wish we couldβve had a thousand more, but Iβve come to find a certain comfort in the set, solid concreteness of death. Itβs heavy, its surface rough, but even after all these years itβs still there, corners smoothed by time, unmoved and still. I canβt change anything about the past, but there are so many other ways that last day couldβve gone, so many other words I could be pouring over years laterβ¦
Instead, you and I got to sit there, perched beside the quiet bay, and tell one other that theyβre loved.Β
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 isnβt. We leave our footprints across wet concrete with each passing day, so before it dries tonight while you sleep, tell a person theyβre 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. Β
germansingergirl
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