My Bestfriend Died and I am STILL Mad
Damn it! My best friend died last year and I am still mad. Mad as HELL actually! And why shouldn’t I be? She was only 37 years old. I had just gotten her back. She’d spent the last 7 years in Las Vegas. And while I know the physical separation was important for both of us to grow, why did she have to die as soon as she came back?
She’d been sick every since I’d known her. She even told me she’d die young. She knew her limits but never hesitated to push them because she understood her illness better than them. Hypotrophic Cardiomyopathy is the devil! She knew it. The doctors were pawns. She knew it. She took her meds, went to appointments and lived her life because she always knew.
Even I knew it because she made sure of it. Now I am here living with the knowing, counting the days until the day of her last day, remembering everything that happened at the end. I remember the last procedures. She referred to them as procedures. Which I thought was very doctor-like or technical. Most of us use the term surgery because it simplifies things for the audience but my best friend was anything but simple.
She knew it was the end. She told me of every procedure that would proceed her death. So each time in those last days when a new one was suggested my heart broke a little bit more as my head counted down and my body showed up.
and even at the end she was worried about us, leaving us, us being okay, me being okay. She should not have been worrying about me. There were things going on at the end of her life that made me feel like mine too was ending. I never shared those things with her but I know she knew.
On one of our last visits, while I was in the midst of one of the worst emotional battles of my life and her in the battle for her life, she advised me to live in every moment, even the hard ones, feel everything, even the arguments and just love. That simple advice, that I might have disregarded any other time in our relationship because that’s my way, let me know that she already knew and that everything would be fine.
She knew. She always knew. She knew I needed her when we became friends in high school. She knew I needed her last August as she was dying. She knew I understood she that she had to go. She knew I would be just fine. She knew we’d all be just fine.
Four more days until her day. I am not sure how I will stand up that day but she knows. And maybe, I might not be mad.