goodbye to a friend

I’m sitting alone in a beautiful house in Ireland on a Sunday afternoon, cuppa in hand watching the wind blow leaves across the yard. I’ve been looking out the wall of windows admiring the beauty of it all in silence. Moments like these are so hard for me, they are a real work to achieve. I have to fight myself to have this silence where my mind is not bombarded by thoughts. That’s the life of an anxious over-thinker I suppose.

Today is special though. Today I feel real peace, something I haven’t felt in a long time.

…Which is why I decided it would be the best time that I could write about this…I’ve struggled these past three months on whether to write it, whether it’s appropriate, or whether it’s even worth it. But it’s time, so here it is.

April 10th , your brother told me the news. The words are engraved in my brain, “he is gone.” I was at my friends place in the middle of dinner when I received this and could just feel the world shatter around me. I began to sob and told them what happened as I ran out of the room. I ran back to my apartment and lost it, screaming and crying while my roommate held me. I had to tell my parents, I had to tell my family. I could barely get words out of my mouth as I gave the news to them. I cried myself through the night, holding onto your picture. I read through our conversations, and had to soak up every word, realizing they were our last ones together on earth. I cried when I read through our plans to meet up, all of our talking about buying plane tickets when you were back from your trip to South America . . . I looked at what you texted me last summer, “maybe we’re cursed and we will never see each other again.” To which my answer was “that’s a sad thought,” and yours again, “right but it’s also untrue, I’m not worried.” These words I cling to, you knew even more than me that we’d see each other again one day, and that we’d get to finish all our unfinished conversations.

Thibaud, I still look up to the sky and try to see you, I still close my eyes and hope to hear you laugh. I go to pray in the hopes that you will come and hug me, that God would grant me a visit from you. I hear your laugh, I picture your smile, and I feel your hug, but only in my memories. I know you’d never want me to be this sad, nor your friends and family, but we can’t help it. The loss of you in our lives holds such a big weight. I know for me I lost someone that I loved, the first guy I ever truly loved, too. You were the first guy to hold my hand, to look at me and appreciate me. You always made me feel loved, and were empathetic and caring. Not only that but you could make me laugh, and could carry a good conversation with me. Though we didn’t talk every day, or quite often, we always knew that we had one another.

The last words I ever got from you were, “Hey, how are you? I tried to have a constructive debate today . . . . . it made me realize how open minded you are and I wanted to tell you to keep it that way.”

Okay, Thibaud. I’ll try. But you better be helping me from up there.

It’s been three and a half months but you’re in my thoughts and prayers every day. I’m trying to stay strong, just like you’d want me to. But even just writing a post here, and knowing you won’t be reading it, hurts. You read my blog and asked me, “why aren’t you depressed and bored by life like most people?” Well, Thibaud, I guess you now have the answer. We all have something up there to look forward to now, don’t we?

I love and miss you, Thibs.

Zelie