My Ian

I just found out one of my friends died almost a year ago.

I was looking through the contacts on my phone and decided to shoot him a message. The last time we spoke, he wasn’t in a good place. The message failed to send.

I looked at his Facebook page. It hadn’t been updated in a very long while. And then I searched his name.

Ian [redacted]. Passed away July 5, 2015.

He was a user and went to rehab for it. He sent me a letter while he was there, with his messy mechanical engineer’s, all-caps scrawl.

When I was assaulted on campus, I cried and cried on the phone with him. He said he knew people from his bad ol’ days who could easily make the guy go away. He would’ve killed for me. Friends like that are a rarity few ever come across.

I feel an immense and terrible guilt on my shoulders. I remember messaging him a year ago with no reply. I asked if he was mad at me. No response.

alrighty then…

bye, Ian.

I unfriended him on Facebook, and I never really gave him a second thought. That was May of 2015.

I never e-mailed him or sent him letters.

I should have.

I should have tried harder to reach out instead of writing him off. He must have been in so much pain.

I’m so sorry, Ian.

I love you.

2 thoughts on “My Ian

  1. We immediately go through the “What ifs” when something like this happens. I lost someone about a month ago, and two weeks ago I found out that a relative committed suicide back in 2014. The same questions popped up in my head, even though the circumstances were different.

    Maybe I could have done something. Maybe not.

    The guilt that we feel is normal. It’s a terrible memento of the time we were powerless to stop someone from leaving us, but it’s also a reminder to cherish those around us while they’re here. Once we finish grieving, we see just how much more important it is to treasure who we value in our little slice of life.

    This will only make you stronger. I hope you know that.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Paulo. Man, I wouldn’t know what to do without your words of guidance. You’re the best coach and friend. I’m damned lucky to have you in my life.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s