Tomorrow isn't Promised

This year, I felt the need to live the year rather than to document every agonising minute that passed. There is something draining about pouring out your heart and soul and always appearing vulnerable. I needed strength and some wisdom; a good dose of sit back and enjoy the ride is just what the doctor ordered. I clearly underestimated the ride we’d all be in for. Equally though, I feel more connected to everyone on this particular planetary orbit around the massive ball of fusing hydrogen. The unknown is plaguing us all. The unexpected is always around the corner. Hands on the back your heads, heads between your knees; brace for impact! We are no where near being out of the dark. As we speak of the dark, the winter nights set in and so does the cold further bringing home and solidifying the isolation we’ve all been forced under by something so small, the naked eye doesn’t even detect it’s presence. Yet, it wreaks havoc on our bodies, our hobbies, jobs, finances and threatens to change our holidays into hazmat suit reunions and turkey tasting of hand sanitiser.

Lockdown and social distancing are three words etched permanently in our frequently used lexicon. These arbitrary words create metaphorical and literal cages, holding us hostage and damaging our psychology in ways we can’t imagine for years to come. And whilst it seems the world is crumbling around us, it’s impossible to imagine anything else can make this turn of the decade any worse. Already exhausted, already suffering, whatever happens. What will be, will be. We wait to hear, read to confirm. The notifications on our smartphones link us to the changing landscape.

Paul, I have so many questions for you.

We spoke on Monday after I had a busy day at work. Our usual musings are intense and enjoyable, often written out because you hate speaking on the phone and voice notes drive you crazy. I’d send voice notes sometimes just to playfully wind you up, and you’d playfully not respond. We bounce off each other well and understand our mental health better than anyone else we talk to. I remember every time you text it’s always with exclamation points. Your disrespect for grammar was shown in your social rebellion, never wanting to fit in, because people never made you feel welcome. We understood the breaks of being a minority of misunderstood queer people. You, Aspergers, me, Bipolar, we were the best parts of eccentric and unpredictable.

Sam texts me on LinkedIn, asking me to call him. I’m slightly panicked. I respond to his message, copying his phone number, my hands are shaking slightly. I cannot even tap the ‘copy’ action. I purposefully take deep breaths, un-frown my brow, telling myself it is not the worse.

I text simply, ‘Hey, what’s up man?’

Sam sends a voice note. Voice quivering, I can hear the tears. Sam exhales hard, expelling all the breath he had. He tells me you had a glass of water and a banana next to you in the armchair you were sitting in. The signs aren’t clear, but to those who know you, it’s glaringly obvious. Sam spoke to you Monday night, I spoke to you Monday afternoon. By Tuesday afternoon after radio silence, they found you dead.

I don’t understand, death is final. And you were on your own.

All I wanted to do is rewind time and tell you to come to my flat. I wanted to scream in the air, in the hopes in travels to the place you now live, hearing that you were never on your own. We all love you, miss you. Why did you leave? We need you! Please, just come back, we’ll do whatever you love. It’s selfish of me, deluded even, but fuck it. I’ll keep you safe. Too many people miss you, too many people love you. Just be here. I am kicking myself I didn’t dedicate more time and listened a little harder when you asked to come over that night. Angry at my self that days passed and I hadn’t heard from you, and whilst that isn’t uncommon, I didn’t challenge it either. I rolled on, like tomorrow is another day, there will be always be opportunities. Until Saturday. Why didn’t I hear your pain? Why wasn’t I a better friend? Why wasn’t I listening? How could I be so stupid, selfish, self absorbed, to not take a minute of my day to really hear you? Now I will never hear you again. The memories aren’t enough, they are vessels of you, not actually you.

I’m so cross with you! You left me here to deal with my mental afflictions on my own. Sad beyond belief that you felt you had nothing left to give. I fell numb. Not really knowing, what was going through mind when you decided to depart earth. I feel confused, I haven’t even cried! I struggle to arrange the right words to covey my raw feelings.

You’ll never text me in capitals or exclamations for mundane things such as beans on toast.

I’ll never get to interact with your gifted mind, or feel your loyalty and warmth of friendship.

I’ll never receive your 3 question marks reminding me to respond when my mind is absent.

I’ll never see you again.