This past year has been...odd. I can't put into words how much I miss him. I feel like I lost a limb, at best. There is no way I can describe with words or music what we had. It was an intangible bond that was so strong, his death woke me from a deep sleep. Let me explain.
Last October 30, I put Dante to bed early and was out cold by midnight. I sat straight up, wide awake around 1 or 130am, and I knew in my soul that something was wrong. I knew someone had died. I put my hand on my husbands chest...he was fine. I crept into Dante's room, and he was fine. But I couldn't shake that feeling. I was baffled, so I went to the bathroom, smoked a cigarette, and went to bed. It was a scary, fitful sleep. Woke up early and went with Dante to Walgreen's to get candy on the off chance we got trick or treaters, and took him home to get us ready for trick or treating at the zoo.
At the zoo, I got a text message from facebook telling me that Brenda, his mom, had finally accepted my friend request, and I was stoked! At this point, I had finally gotten Chris back for exactly two weeks. I didn't get the text message from facebook telling me Brenda sent me a message. I got that message when I got home.
It was hell on earth. I felt like my lungs were trying to escape from the confines of my chest. I could have be a sworn that if I looked down, there was going to be a gaping hole square in the center of my chest. Then that feeling that woke me in the middle of the night washed over me like a bath of hot lava. This was it. I thought I was going to snap under the weight of this crushing news.
Chris was so much more than my best friend. He was my platonic soul mate. He was my rock for an amazing amount of time, if I let myself remember. He celebrated my joys with me and mourned my losses. When he needed me (so rare for him to admit it....), I was there. I cried with him when his grandmother died, he held me after I lost a few friends. He made me laugh when I thought the dumbest things were the end of the world, and as far as I am concerned, he hung the moon. He challenged my beliefs, he shoved me when I needed it most, and best of all he listened to things I didn't have to say. On more than one occasion he sacrificed his bed so I could crash between trips to and from Denver and Las Cruces. He'd grab a pillow and crash on his madly uncomfortable couch so I could rest. He shared his music collection with me. Convinced me to see movies I had no interest in (I had no desire to see the Matrix. Seriously.) He gave me so very much. I took him for granted, and for that, I am eternally sorry. I hope he got as much from me. I'll never know, and that is a chunk of my pain.
It's a constant hum in my ears. This fear that I wasn't as good to him as he was to me. He asked for so little, it's hard to tell. But it nags and gnaws at me like a wolf at my heels. Whomever created the Universe broke the mold when they made him. I have yet to meet anyone who is anything like him.
In my head, I can replay his old voicemail message, I heard it so many times. I hope I never lose that. That
would be a terrible day in a way I don't want to imagine. His tone, his infliction...you can tell someone pissed him off and he was trying to mask said anger with a sing-song tone on his "Hi." I remember the bitch that pissed him off, too. She'd call until his phone wanted to kill itself, then she'd get mad at him for not answering while he was at work! Sheesh!
I have so many stories. So many happy memories with him. We gave each other so much crap, I'm sure we were fantastic to watch from afar.
At the very least, I know I amused the hell out of him.
Yes. Dead Man's Party. As sad as I am, I have to be grateful for him. To him. I have to celebrate the life that made mine infinitely better. I love and miss you, Chris. I hope somewhere in the ether you love and miss me, too. My heart hurts without you.