At 3:30 AM on Friday, December 31st, I found out that my best friend and the man I have been in love with for over two years died in his sleep.
I keep hoping someone is going to tell me this is all just a joke, a test of some sort, but deep down I know I have to face this head-on. I wish I were one of those people who truly believes in an afterlife, because right now it would be comforting to think that I might see him again some day, but as far as I can know, there is no afterlife.
I will never see him at the bar again.
I will never hear him call me his "buddy, Duke" again.
I will never get to find out whether or not he really was an awesome dungeon master.
I will never get to dedicate a song to him at karaoke and know that he can hear it again.
I will never get another text message from him.
I will never hear him ask me for "back scratchies" again.
I will never get to bring him the home-cooked meals I promised.
I just saw him ten days ago, on Wednesday night, and asked me for back rubs to remember me by, and I just talked to him on Tuesday afternoon, when he texted me to ask how my vacation was going. The last thing I said to him was that I love him and miss him and looked forward to seeing him when I get back home.
He was my biggest supporter and staunchest ally, and above all, one of the best friends I could have hoped for in these past few months. He never failed to go above and beyond any amazing thing I could have even hoped he might do or say.
I am glad I got to tell him I love him. And I dare say, I am glad that in the last couple weeks, he really seemed to understand what I meant.
I am glad I told him, because I meant it, and I mean it, and I'll never get to tell him again and be certain that he is out there receiving the message. It doesn't mean I won't try, though.
I love you, D.
- (no subject)