For Absent Friends: What You Wish You Could Say

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I’ve lost a few friends and family in my time, but none haunts me more that the loss of a buddy whose name was Craig.

He was one of our group of friends at university. For four years, we all griped about essays, assignments, and professors; while shooting pool, playing ball, watching TV sports, and listening to music. We drank endless cups of coffee in the caf, and more-than-endless beers in a variety of pubs. We laughed and lived and bullshat each other and did pretty much everything a group of college buddies will do.

Including ogling women. I never noticed, but perhaps Craig never did that as much as the rest of us. As history would prove, Craig was gay.

After graduation, the gang broke up, as we all went to various places and various careers. Until one day, about three or four years after graduation, when Bill, of the old crowd, called me clear out of the blue.

“Did you see your Sunday paper?” he asked. “There’s a feature on Craig. He’s dead, of AIDS.” But I hadn’t seen the paper, so when Bill and I met shortly after that, and certainly after a few years, he showed me a copy.

It seems that Craig had left Toronto after graduation, and went to Vancouver, where he got involved in the local gay community. To make a long story short, he contracted AIDS, and when it was diagnosed, he came home to Toronto to die. He opted not to call any of us; the only visitor he had while in the hospital here was his mother, who visited daily, and waited for the end.

Which came, unknown to us. But not to the people of Canada’s AIDS quilt, who made sure that Craig was remembered in a square of the quilt, and who managed somehow to let the papers know. Thus the Sunday item, which mentioned Craig, among others.

Bill managed to reach Craig’s mother to ask her why he hadn’t got in touch with any of us when he returned to Toronto to die. We would have been there, Bill said, and indeed, we all would have. That’s what friends are for, isn’t it? For good times, and bad?

“He didn’t want you guys to know he was gay,” she said. “He thought you would have deserted him or made fun of him, or something.”

<Spoons takes a deep breath.>

No, Craig, we wouldn’t have done anything of the sort. We would have been there for you, pal, just as we always were: laughing, joking, playfully insulting each other. Talking about sports, music, life in general. You were one of us, no matter what you thought or felt about other things. We’re like the Hotel California, Craig: you can check out any time, but you can never leave.

And when you did check out, we would have been there at the necessary time. Hell, I’m sure that we would have been glad to supply a beautiful floral tribute, or a donation in your name to the local AIDS appeal, or something that we could have done for you and your memory.

It don’t matter, you stupid s—. So you’re gay. So what? Is that going to get in the way of your sports predictions? Of your views on current music? In your ability to play centre field, or get a replay on the pinball game, or tell us about what’s been happening in your life?

Jee-zus, I’m kind of PO’d, and I’ve been that way for years, because you didn’t tell us! You dumb SOB, how dare you die without letting us know, without letting us at least go to your funeral. Jeez, I’ve half a mind to–

Yeah, well. Yeah. Well.

Listen, pal, when we meet again, and I’m sure we will, you’re gonna owe me a couple of beers. Over the first one, I’m gonna rip a strip off you for not letting us know when you needed us. And over the second, we’ll laugh, joke, talk about sports, and generally be like we used to be.

When we meet again, we’ll drink and talk and laugh and joke. You have my word. And you know I don’t give that lightly.

Folks, the other night, my regrets about this (which I have carried for nearly twenty years) rather spilled over. My wife suggested I tell someone anonymously, and since I know of no other appropriate place, I thought of this. And it still didn’t come out exactly as I wanted. But anyway, please feel free to share similar experiences, and if you have none, then spare a few good thoughts for absent friends.

2

To my late friend Scott: Here’s to what might have been. Cheers!

3

To my Grandpa, one of the best friends I have ever had:

I’m sorry that I wasn’t there with you for your final years. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be at your funeral. Just know that I have grown up responsible and that I do try and do the right things. I will always love you and remember you as you were when I left.

Kisses and Hugs Peepaw.

4

Krista: I miss you, and still love you after all these years.

Spoons: I understand.

5

To my son John, I hope you’re well and strong. I hope you’re sitting with Grandma and Grandpa K and Grandma H. I hope you found the three little ones that didn’t make it and you’re all together. We love you. We haven’t forgotton you and your brothers know all about you. I know you’re OK now.

To my first love, Marty. I’m glad we stayed friends. Even though I moved on after we broke up, I always loved you. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to be with you all the way. I think you knew I intended to, but you didn’t give me the chance. I really thought there were months left, or at least weeks. At least days. When it came, you were alone and I will always regret that. I guess it was better, though. No hospital, no tubes and wires and fear. Just a quick moment and then you were free. At least, I hope that’s how it was. Did you even know it had come? Or was it swift and painless and merciful. God, I hope and pray so. I miss you. I can’t believe I’ll never hear your voice on the phone, trading wisecracks, joking, just being you. In a way, I’m glad we knew it was coming. I did get a chance to show you a little how much I still cared. Damn you, I miss you, though…

6

This thread has me just about in tears. Here’s my contribution.

Brandon,

It’s been a couple months now… and it’s all starting to sink in. I guess I just want you to know that whether or not I talk about you on a day to day basis, I always think of you. I always hope your mom is okay. I wonder how you’d feel about all of this. I wanted to call you and tell you about my promotion… I know you’d have been proud. I’m sorry I wasnt there for you… I’m sorry I was so damned judgemental sometimes. It’s true how they say that you never truly get over losing a loved one, you just get used to living without them. If I never told you, I love you. Always have, despite myself.

Until that day,

Shannon

7

This July will be the tenth anniversary of meeting one of my high school band directors (who would turn out to be my favorite). This past February was the seventh anniversary of his death. This man was a truly wonderful person. Think of Mr. Holland from the middle to end of Mr. Holland’s Opus and multiple the kindness, the goofiness, the talent, and the shear goodness of him by at least three. This man reignited my love for band; he helped me improve and mature so much as both a person and a musician. He inspired me to try pursuing music education at the university that he himself had attended. The day of his funeral, just about all two hundred and fifty band and colorguard students left school early to attend. That’s how great a man he was.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Mr. B,

If I had known that I would never talk to you again after Christmas break, I would have made sure that our last conversation wasn’t about my need to learn the line between playful flirt and annoying stalker when it comes to the ladies. I would have found a time to tell you how much of an inspiration you were to me; I would have found a time to tell you how much of a friend you were.

Mr B., if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what my life would have been like. I might have dropped out of band and missed out on all the fond memories I now have. I would have missed out on the people who have become my closest friends. I would have missed out on all I got to learn from you. Thanks in large part to you, I matured. From following your example, I became a leader. Thanks to your support, I developed confidence in myself. You never gave up on me when I struggled; you were one of my biggest supporters.

I’m sorry that I never got the chance to tell you any of this when you were still us. I, like everyone, never expected that you, in the prime of your life, would be taken from your family, your friends, and us by cancer. You were our hero and our mentor, and you were especially a role model for many like myself. When you died, my life froze. I just kept reliving the moment that we were told you had left us every time I picked up my trumpet. It took months for me (indeed, all of your students) to return to some sort of normalcy.

I know that you had to know how much we all loved you. We were a gigantic family, and you were Uncle B. I guess I just want to make for certain that you knew. I want you to know how much you meant to me, and how important you still are to me. Most importantly, I just want to say thank you. You’re still the best, B.

8

There are a few things I might write to a friend here, except there’s a fair chance she’d read it :).

So I’ll settle for: I miss you.

9

Hi Shaz…
It’s been two years since you left us, and there still isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t pick up the phone to call you. You were only my sister-in-law 7 short weeks before cancer stole you away, but I’ll never forget, and always be grateful for, how much us two sisterless girls enjoyed that fact while we had it. As sisters went, you were the BEST.
Every time I walk through the woods we love so well, I feel you with me. You made me promise to never forget you. Like I ever could.
(heart in the snow)
I love you.

10

Dear Adam,

It’s been four years since you died, and I still miss you. Sometimes I’ll forget about you for days or even weeks at a time, but something completely mundane will trigger a memory, and it’ll come flooding back.

I’ll be walking past a store and see a shirt you would have liked… or eating pumpkin pie and remembering that was your favorite food… or see my aunt sewing something, and recall the time you ripped out the pockets of your favorite jeans and begged me to stitch them back on… it’s the littlest, stupidest thing, but it’ll bring you back, just for an instant, from the murky land of memory and dreams. Once I saw a man in a crowd who looked just like you, and I had to chase him down for a better look, just in case I was wrong and the last few years had been a nightmare and you were really alive after all.

Sometimes I’m sad, sometimes I’m angry. You weren’t supposed to die like that. You were never supposed to commit suicide. You were supposed to die old in your bed, with the people who loved you surrounding you. This was never supposed to happen. It’s some sort of cosmic mistake, I know it is.

You died because you thought no-one loved you, no-one cared, and no-one would miss you or think about you when you were gone. You were wrong, Adam. I miss you and love you and think about you. One day, if I have a son, I’ll name him after you. I wish I had the talent to eulogize you properly, in song or speech or poetry, but I don’t. So I suppose this’ll have to do.

Goodbye, Adam. Maybe if I’m wrong, and there is an afterlife, we’ll see each other there. Then I can tell you everything I just said, things I should have said four years ago.

.:Nichol:.

11

Dear Nicole,

I didn’t know you very well, but this is what I do know, and it’s enough to inspire me to feel fond of you:

You were the first person to take care of Ashley. You tried your damndest to help her see how beautiful, smart and wonderful she is. You wanted her to realize that she could be strong, that she had every reason to be confident. It must have been frustrating that it took her a long time to find any of that out. It must have been infuriating that she saw you as “the strong one”, when you were trying to tell her she could be strong without you. No one will ever know how you missed her when she left the school in the little town you shared, to go to school at a special program “in town”. That’s where she met me and her boyfriend and you two kind of lost touch.

And then you were on a snowmobile and you smashed into a tree and you were just erased. Not even an adult yet and you were gone. I was heartsick for Ashley when she told me. So many regrets, so many things left unsaid. I was so sad because I knew those things would continue to haunt her. And I couldn’t understand why someone who still had so much life left in them could get so broken that they just couldn’t live anymore, and it wasn’t even anyone’s fault, just an accident.

At the funeral, I held Ashley’s soft pale hand and thought about you, about your red hair and your surliness and the way you loved to swim and the friendship you shared with Ashley, all the little things that came together and made you. A teacher came up when the minister asked people to share thoughts about your life. He said that he was always struck by how well you could express yourself in writing. Ashley shifted a little in her chair.
Walking to a restaurant for an early lunch (skipping school) after the service, I turned to Ashley and said; “You wrote those for her, didn’t you.”
“Yes,” she said.
Nicole, you spent years trying to teach Ashley not to be a pushover. In the meantime, you had her do your homework. :wink:
I know she did it because she loved you.

You were taken way too soon. From all of us. Just wanted to say that of the two of us, she’s not the only one who is sorry you are gone.

Wish I could talk to you,

Emfish

12

Dear Jessica,

I think of you every April when the cherry trees bloom in Washington. I think of myself puking near the Washington Monument and how you stayed on the ground to be with me and we watched gray squirrels and gawked at cute boys and wandered among the cherry trees.

I think of you whenever I hear a Jimi Hendrix song, especially “Foxy Lady”, because you wanted to walk down the aisle to it at your wedding, and “Manic Depression”, because I listened to it at full blast and cried and cried the day I found out you had died.

I hadn’t spoken to you for a few years before you died, but I miss you so much.

13

Spoons that was a beautiful post. Thanks.

Tannis:

I met you when I was only 16 (and I thought I knew everything). I thought you were insufferable and arrogant. As I got to know you, I realized what an incredible person you really were. You lived every moment to the fullest, knowing that it could be over at any time. You showed me what a strong, independent woman really was. You taught me not to take any shit, and to never let anyone disrespect me. Only in the past few years have I fully realized all that you showed me. Thank You. I think of you often. I still feel like the World got cheated by losing you so early. I hope there’s Jimmy Buffett music for you in Heaven.

14

Lad, wherever you are, I do mean it when I say I wish you well. You did, I’m afraid, break my heart when you faded out of my life and never said good-bye, and yes, one of these days, I would like to know why you couldn’t have taken the trouble to write me a letter ending it, but wherever you are, I hope you are happy. You’re a good man, you know, and you’ve left me with many fond memories. You were good for me, and good to me. When I found myself plummeting through hell, you came along for the ride, and did everything you could for me. Despite what you might believe, it was good enough, and better than I thought I deserved. So help me, it must be five years since I last heard your voice, longer since I saw your face, but you still cross my mind at times, and your ghost walks across my heart. You gave me love, you gave me laughter, you gave me many, many, hilarious stories, and you showed me just how glorious sex, lust, and love can be. Thank you. I keep hoping you’ll turn up on this Board one of these days – it would suit you. I also hope there is a lady in your life, and she knows how wonderful a fellow she has. Be well, be happy, and know that you are forgiven, if you need it. You were my best friend and my first love. You gave me dreams, wonders, and fantasies beyond compare. Somehow you gave me myself. Be well, Love, and think fondly of me, not regretfully. My life would have been different if we’d married, but, if we had, I never would have met some of the wonderful people I have. You’d like them, you know, and they’d like you (although one or two of them would like to clean your clock for breaking my heart).

Take care,
She who was once your woodnymph.

15

This is an exerpt (sp?) from a song I wrote. I had been pining over The One Who Got Away, and my brother suggested that I write a song to try and get it out of my system.

I hear you calling to me
In my dreams
I feel you’re telling me
That it seems
That I can’t let go of my past
But you are still saying nothing

Would you even listen to me
If I tried
To tell you the truth this time
No more lies
I must find a way
A way to prove myself

That I don’t want to love you anymore
But you still live on in my thoughts
I never wanted
To add to all baggage
That your life already bought
That my life already bought
That our lives already…

16

Ashleigh, you were 17. You had no reason to die. You were so young.
Our birthdays were only one day apart. We were close to best friends. You never told anyone how serious your heart condition was. You collapsed in the supermarket while you were working, and quick as you please, you were dead.
I just want to say I’m sorry I argued with you so much. I would honestly vote for Bush now, if it would bring you back. I wanted you to graduate with me. I love you and I miss you.

Beth

17

This is a different kind of absence. And not such a nice message.

K, I suppose I should feel sorry for you, for you must have something terribly rotten and painful inside to do the things you do. But you know, that’s hard for me. It’s difficult to forgive someone who worked so hard to manipulate all of her supposed friends; to make them doubt themselves and not trust each other.

I hope you find some way to get your life straightened out. Your husband deserves better, and so do your kids, who are otherwise going to grow up as warped and mean-spirited as you are.

I know you think we all miss you, but there was such a sigh of relief when you moved away. It’s much easier to handle you from 1200 miles away.

18

It is far easier to post this, copied and pasted from a link on my webpage, than to type heartwrenching thoughts that have plagued my being since July two years ago.

I hope, my friend, that wherever you are, you are well.

Strength Personified

She walks the line thin as a blade
She is complete, though knows it not.
She might be split in two by now;
Her inner strength won’t let her fade.

For she is strength personified
if ever such a thing could be.
She takes all given her in stride
She’s strength personified to me.

And you who wait for her to fall
Don’t know the power of her soul.
It will not let her drop the ball
Nor let her be less than her whole.

She will not lose to any fear
That has her walk; It knows this not.
It thinks that she will not survive
But to its end she’s drawing near.

For she is strength personified
if ever such a thing could be.
She takes all given her in stride
She’s strength personified to me.

There is the innate sense in there,
That mind of hers, sharp as the line
She walks each day- that life does not
entail just tests but, at the end,
a peace among the laurels there.

I know that she can see that line
Where she can rest forever more.
She’ll have looked fear in the face
And she’ll have triumphed, she’ll be fine.

So wait, you who don’t think she can.
Look on, observe her handle all
that you would throw to set her off.
She’ll prove you wrong time and again.

For she is strength personified
if ever such a thing could be.
She takes all given her in stride
She’s strength personified to me.

Wrote that a few months before she left.