this is a good post
oh my heart
“And he greeted death like an old friend”
I get this expression. I hate this expression. Yes, we should greet death like an old friend but when the time is right. The truth is, the time is never right for those who are left behind. Even worse when it’s not expected.
I’ve been flirting with the idea of sharing this experience for a while now. I still can’t decide if writing about death, particularly one of a life so dear to mine, is morbid. I do however, think that I’ve had enough time to sort through my emotions, and thoughts to logically write about this experience. I also think that this will be my final way of letting go (but never forgetting) this journey.
Let’s go back to 2004 where I first met Richard. I was a freshman in high school, he was a senior. He was popular and had a grill for his teeth. Super cool for 2004! I knew of Richard but never really knew him until later in life because I was a weird, artistic, “scene kid” freshman.
Jump ahead to 2009 where mutual friends introduced us and instantly we became those friends that did almost everything together.
Our friendship was the type of friendship that rarely happens in a lifetime, let alone in such a short period if time. He would listen to me read his horoscope ever day and neither of us believed in that. I would give him the last Louisiana hot sauce packet in our Raising Canes meals. He would help me with my “game” (which I’m still lacking) and scare off any dude that came in a 5 foot radius of me. Not on purpose I might add. Looks as scary as lion but fluffy as a teddy bear.
Now, let me take you through some events that I know of on the LAST week of his death.
1. Hung out with me on Monday. As usual.
2. Came over while I worked on a school project and convinced my dad to go to a death metal show.
3. Took me out to dinner.
4. Called me Friday night.
5. Called me Saturday afternoon to see if I wanted to go to a party.
6. Called me Saturday night to say he wanted to stay in and do laundry.
7. Texts me “I love you” and I text back love you too.
Sunday.
Haven’t seen Richard yet but it’s on 2 pm and we usually don’t hang out until later in the evenings anyways. I drop off my friend at her house and then get the most life changing phone call of my life to date from our really good friend Jon.
Jon: “Becca, Richard is no longer with us.”
Me: “Shut up! You’re with him right now. What are you guys up to?”
Jon: “No, I’m serious he took his own life earlier this morning.”
I still couldn’t translate into words how I felt at this exact moment. One second I’m thinking, “No, this isn’t real” the next I’m crying the next is what do I do? The next is this is a joke. There’s no way.
There is no way. There is no way someone as happy as Richard, who made others happy before himself, could have felt that way about his life. But that’s the scary truth about those people in that state of mind. It’s almost always the people who you would never guess, who put on happy faces for others while we are all consumed with our pathetic mundane worries. And they listen to us but do we ever listen to them?
For days I was a wreck. I would be sitting in the apple store fine and the next second I’d be balling my eyes out telling the apple support guy “I’m fine, I just had a question about my phone.” Probably freaking him out because he thinks I’m crying over my iPhone not working properly.
Then I became angry. With him and with myself. If I had tried harder to hang out Saturday night would this have ever happened? Why would he leave me when we had so many plans together? How are people’s lives still normal? I especially hated it when people asking if I “saw it coming?” Like really?! No!! I figured he would be at church like normal and we would watch terrible kung-fu movies instead if paying attention like we always did. My life was completely out of balance and I was having a very hard time getting control of it. No one could do anything for me. Not to mention to even say they were sorry for my loss without me wanting to rip their heads off. I couldn’t even face your parents for 3 months and by the time I did I was slightly ashamed at how long it took me. And the first thing they asked was how am I. How am I? I couldn’t even answer and they understood because they told me they were tired of that question.
3 years later I still get sad but more happy. Happy to still have memories of you. To have had you as a friend and been blessed through every experience you have given me.
Sometimes I like to think you’re on an island with 2pac having a good old time and not actually gone from this earth and that you’re gonna come back soon and say “gotcha” and I’m gonna punch you and swear profusely at you.
I’ll never know the demons you were facing Richard, and I may never know if I helped keep you here a little longer or if I could have. All I know is you were loved by many and still are. I know you are watching over me and laughing when I laugh and listening to me when I talk. I know you’re there at every Kid Cudi concert I go to. And in my car when I’m listening to new Kanye songs. Thanks. Don’t ever stop being there.
