On The Day That You Died

I will remember the day that you died for as long as I live.

The phone calls; finding out in a matter of moments that you were gone, that everything I believed to be true was a lie.

You were no longer the man who made me laugh.

You were no longer the kind of person who wanted to listen to me or help me.

You were no longer this smart and amazing guy.

You were just dead – Just like that.

Once the initial shock wore off I realized that I had ignored so many things over those last few months.

Like how you were also the man who made me cry every day.

How mean and callous you’d been.

How you’d call me crazy and laugh in my face.

I remember the last time we were together. I knew there was something wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it. In those last moments when I dropped you off you ‘patted’ my hand (in a very formal way) before getting out of my car, you said “Don’t worry, everything is going to be ok”. It was strange too how you called me that night to quell my fears that you were not with anyone else; “See psycho! I’m alone” you said.

I didn’t get any of this then.

I didn’t get why you started to look at me with disgust or shout out me on the phone.

I didn’t get why you stopped telling me about your life.

I didn’t get why you started telling me that the company I worked for was displeased with me.

I didn’t understand why you started laughing when you told me you started playing squash again with your buddy.

In those moments after you died all of this came rushing at me making it incredibly hard to breathe. 

There was a weight on my chest so heavy that I did not think I would survive it, in fact I hoped I wouldn’t.

Reflecting on these times I realize you told me everything would be ‘ok’ because you knew what you were doing.

Calling me that same night to reassure me you were alone was just a part of your sick game; the same game you’d been playing with me for two years.

You looked at me in disgust because your new girlfriend was over 10 years my junior.

You would shout at me on the phone because it made you feel powerful, I can’t believe you giggled when I cried.

You stopped telling me about your life because you were spending it with a new woman.

You were not playing squash with your ‘buddy’, you had been playing squash with her.

You laughed when you told me, I guess excited that you could keep so many secret lives. 

I think it’s when you took me away on my birthday that you told me the story about playing squash again; I wonder if your squash buddy thinks you were ‘fishing’ with the guys that weekend, but thanks to your wife who bought the groceries we needed for our little get-away.

Clueless I was to the evil I shared my bed with.

On the day that you died you laughed in my face when I choked back tears screaming at you because you were still married! You laughed in my face when I asked you why? Why? You would continue to see me if you had a new girlfriend.

“So what!” You said.

“Don’t you want me to be HAPPY?” You said.

And just like that you were completely dead to me.

Just like a fatal car crash one day you were here and the next day you were gone.

I couldn’t even mourn the loss of you because I didn’t know who you were! That wonderful, kind, smart, loving guy NEVER existed. I was mourning the loss of my imaginary friend.

Months after your ‘death’ I realized that maybe you came into my life to teach me that in order for me to survive I must start to value myself more than I valued others. I will admit it was a lesson I had not learned; it was a lesson I am still learning.

I will never understand why you hand-picked me, knowing that all you wanted was to use someone, to destroy someone, to play head games with someone. Why did you choose me after hearing my painful stories of death, loneliness and betrayal only to hurt me worse than anyone ever has before? 

Why did you take whatever confidence I had left and try to destroy it? Why did you try to make me doubt myself as a person, a parent, a friend, a professional?

I didn’t think that type of evil actually existed, but now my eyes are open.

On the day of your death I slowly started to breathe again. I slowly started to live.  I slowly started to rebuild everything you tried so hard to destroy.

It looks like in the end the only person you destroyed was yourself. 

Was it really worth it?

I’m not sure if this is possible for someone like you, but I hope you rest in peace.