Did you think of us when you took your life? What did you see in your final moments?

Did you see your mother grief-stricken. Your family? oh your beautiful, young, amazing children? Did you see them? Are their faces forever burnt into your memory for them to vanish the moment you died?

Did you think of your friends? For us, we have no closure, We don’t get to say a goodbye. You weren’t dying from a terminally ill disease that we could hug you and kiss you and tell you it was ok to stop fighting. we couldn’t tell you it was ok to go. We have to stand together, united by your death, while you are lowered into the earth. Dirt. DIRT!!! our final fucking thoughts of you will be of your body in a box.

Did you think of our good times? our conversations on love, music, films and books. did you think of the witty comments, the laughter you caused, the smiles you gave us.

Did you think that while you would be free from all the dark torture, your death by your own hand would pass that onto us for us to carry. That we would blame ourselves.

Did you know we would blame ourselves. GOD DAMN IT! I’m FUCKING FURIOUS WITH YOU! and that makes me the bad person, I’m selfish because i’m hurt and it’s your fault but your dead. You don’t feel it. you have no idea how badly we feel we let you down. we couldn’t save you.

Did you struggle? did you fight death or welcome it with your body in peace?  Isn’t that an awful thing to think about? The choice you made. How you ended it. Our many, many conversations of your previous attempts… today each graphic detail has been like a movie reel on autoplay and repeat since I woke up. I feel the pain from each slice of a blade, on my wrists, my neck. I feel the tightness of my chest, the burn in my throat because I find I cannot breathe. I panic, PANIC!!!! I gulp the air, I’m in the fucking car, sitting at the traffic lights, with tears streaming down my face because I CANNOT FUCKING BREATHE! but there are no plastic bags smothering my face. There is no belt around my neck, choking me. My stomach has been riddled in pain, nausea consuming me, my tears block my vision as if they are seeing the last thing I’ll ever lay my eyes on before the darkness consumes me. yet I have no medication near me. no pills have been swallowed. I am not overdosing.  And then I’m hit with guilt. 24 years of guilt from taking my own overdose at 14 years old. is this what i put my parents through? is this how they felt when they saw me in the hospital having my stomach pumped? when the doctor wouldn’t let them in  the room incase I had taken an overdose because i was being abused? or that four years later i’d be sitting in the exact same spot with my sick infant watching another family going through what my parents did while their daughter was having the same life saving treatment as I did. in that moment, you made me hate for remembering every single detail. the looks on their faces, the feeling of the tube down my throat, the sound of the pump, the hospital smell.

did you think any of us wouldn’t give a shit about you,or long enough to think this? any of it?

God damn it, YES! WE FUCKING CARED!!!!!!!

You were a son

you were a father

you were a brother

you were a friend.

you were loved.

 

and fuck me, you will be missed.

Today, I am angry and hurt and sad. oh dear lord, I am heart-broken.

I lost one of the good one’s. I lost a true gent.

I lost a genuine, honest, polite and witty friend.

Tell me who will listen to me now when I cannot sleep.

Who will I share my woes & secrets with?

 

Years ago, I lost my best friend. He phoned me too. He was like you. he made me smile and laugh. he had my back, like i did his. He phones me one day, i can already hear the smile in his hello, he’s phoning to tell me the sun is shining, he’s going out on his motorbike and he wanted to tell me how happy that made him. I told him be careful. I told him, let me know when you get home ok. I told him to keep it between the hedges. that was my goodbye, I was the last person he spoke to on his phone.

He died the next day from his injuries after a driver plowed into him at railway crossing.

It hurt like hell. I never tell ANYBODY whose going out on a bike, any of those words (doesn’t mean I don’t wish for them to be safe & long to see their statuses or receive their texts to see they’re home), I blame myself. Sounds stupid right. I mean how can me telling someone to be careful and keep it between the hedges mean I caused his accident. It didn’t. the fucking driver did. But the point is this…. I felt like I’d jinxed him but I got my goodbye. I got to let him know I cared and i loved him.

You didn’t give us that chance.

I knew it though. I felt it. I told my mum you’d been quiet online and I was going to check in with you later that day when I got home because something felt wrong.  But don’t you see, now, you’re like my best friend. Do I take that feeling of knowing as my goodbye?

Because you didn’t give me the last conversation. I had to get a text message from another friend. I had to reply… I knew!! You bastard, I knew!! I asked her if you were still alive? You made me send that text message. You made her have to phone me and tell me that you were gone. Fuck you, you broke our hearts.

I know, I know it makes me a right bitch. I know it makes me sound selfish. I know I’m angry and hurt. but i also know, I cared. you were my friend. I will always cherish our conversations. I will always cherish how you made me feel, I will always cherish our laughter and the craic.  I will miss you.

but tonight, I’m pissed off with you. and I still can’t stop feeling the pain and seeing the reel.

But I promise you this.

When I stand at your graveside, I will not be angry. I will stand there and mourn your life that has ended way too soon & I will thank you for your friendship. You were one of the good guys, you reminded me of that everytime we spoke.

Sleep eternally in peace my friend

I love you dearly x

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s