I got some news last month.
I have held this post like a boiled sweet in my mouth. Moving it side to side, let it melt for a moment to understand the complexity, the flavour, for I know my thoughts might not be how others feel or accept.
A friend has passed away.
I say friend, but in all honesty with life and busyness and stuff we very rarely spoke now.
On paper we should have been each others support.
They had fibro too. Life has rolled some punches and mental health has kicked their arse. Such common ground.
We both loved crazy shoes, we both loved all things spooky and we both loved Halloween.
As teenagers, we shared 2 fantastic trips to France on the school’s exchange program.
And we were the teachers’ worst nightmare.
We sat at the back of the coach, we sang rude songs and flirted with the coach driver.
We even took him for a pint instead of going up the Eiffel Tower with the rest of the class. How he didn’t get fired for drinking on the job I’ll never know.
And we caused proper mischief. But somehow didn’t get in trouble on those trips.
But trouble followed us.
And it was on those trips they fell in love with France, and eventually moved out there to start a life for themselves, and brought up their family.
We had kept in contact. Checking in on Facebook, chatting about life. Sometimes the highlights and sometimes of how shit life could be.
They even helped out with French law and sorting out some of Dad’s estate when he passed away over there. And I was so grateful.
Every now and then we would tag each other in a post. A reminder we were thinking of one other, but as time went on, that was it.
I saw they were struggling, and I still very much cared and tried to listen when they needed a friendly face. But I didn’t have the strength to care for myself then so maybe didn’t show up as often as I could have.
My mental health took a nose dive and so did theirs. I shut down on everything. Even my own relationships at home, let alone an old friend who was now in a different country. It all got too hard.
We got out of touch.
This Halloween I crawled under a rock.
I just couldn’t get into the spirit.
No spooky, no decorations, no special scary meal.
I only bothered with a costume because we had been invited to someone else’s party.
It all just felt too hard.
I never considered others were finding it hard too.
But I’ve wallowed in self-pity. I’ve lived in my darkness and I’ve been petrified of what’s to come in the following months.
My November onwards each year has always been a fucker til spring sets in. And I’ve been crawling under a rock trying to ignore it.
Any normal Halloween we would have shared our joy over posts we’d seen, spooky decorations or costumes we’d loved. So when I wasn’t getting any notification from their account, I was oblivious, my head was up my own arse in an ‘oh woe is me’.
And then I read the news.
They’ve gone.
The family hasn’t shared details, but I know how they were struggling. I think they made their choice. And I had chosen not to be there for them.
When I first heard the news, I was angry. Why the hell didn’t they reach out if things were so hard? And then I realised the irony of that, and how I didn’t ask for help when I got so low this year.
And then came sadness and guilt and heartache for their family. Their children. And the silly things like how we’ll never lust over a pair of shoes together, that neither of us could ever walk in but oh how we coveted them. And that no one else but them will remember the song we wrote about our coach journey in France.
But every now and then when I think of them I feel relief. To know they’re not suffering. To know that all that tormented them has faded away. And the bravery that it took to do it their way.
My thoughts and views are not PC, but I understand their choice and I will honour their light in my own way and accept their courage.
Sleep well my friend.
Another one taken to soon. But you were never one to play by the rules, so you played your own game all the way to the end.