Day late...but not a dollar short...

Yesterday was a mixed emotions day for me. I was shutting down my computer and my sister asked me did I blog? I told her know that I would handle it in the morning. At least I know she is reading.

Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of a very good friend. We dated for 3 years and even after breaking up remained very good friends. I was doing okay when I got ready for work and on the way to work. And then I got a call from his dad. We talk frequently so it wasn't as if I didn't know the call was coming. I just wasn't sure when. Let me start from the beginning...

Me and Phat Boy had dated for 3 years, as I stated before. Not long after breaking up his family started having a series of tragedies. His mother had gotten severely ill and was in ICU for a few days, she went home but got progressively worse. I got a call one September morning that she had died at home. Phat Boy had no sisters and his parents had included me as a daughter even after our breaking up. I stepped in and provided assistance with the services, doing programs, arranging the repast even helping her be removed from the home by the funeral director. UGH....that was painful.

About 8 months later, I was returning from a very wonderful retreat in Myrtle Beach when I got a call from "Dad" saying that they had to take Phat Boy to the hospital and that he wasn't doing well at all. I told him okay and that I would stop by after I went to church the following day. While I was in church they called me to tell me Phat Boy had gone into cardiac arrest and I needed to get to the hospital. When I got there he was just laying there, motionless, I squeezed his hand and got no response. It was really scary. What was even scarier was that he was in the same ICU as his mom a few months ago. I spoke with the nurse and she remembered me from visiting his mom. She told me that he was not going to make it. And this time, I believed her. I cried, and I prayed and I tried to accept that he wasn't going to be the same person. I knew in my heart that Big Poppa would have wanted to leave because if he was to live his quality of life would have been one that he would not have wanted. I had severely mixed emotions. I went home that evening and began to prepare myself for "the call". I slept lightly, around 6 the next morning I was sure that everything was okay because I had a crazy dream about him. In the dream he was ripping the tubes out of his arms and sitting up and saying that he was okay. About 30 minutes later I got "the call" that he had died around 6, so he really was okay.

The days following his death were too long, I went through the motions, helping his dad who had just lost his wife 8 months before. I was like a robot just doing things and not thinking about it. Calling friends and telling them what happened. Going over the story over and over. Then a very good friend called me, he really encouraged my heart. He told me that he never realized how quickly we take friendships for granted. We assume that because we are "young" that we would be here forever. It really helped me to make it through one of the most difficult days in my life. Because Big Poppa had not dated after our break up there was no one fighting me to get attention. Not that I wanted it. I just did what I knew had to be done. I was there for him. When the time came to say my final good bye it finally hit me. As the funeral director assisted me I felt such as sense of calm going through my body. I talked to him as I was covering him up and told him that I forgave him for not knowing how to love me as much as I wanted to be loved. And that I didn't blame him because I didn't tell him how I wanted to be loved.

2 years have passed, I spent many of days at the cemetery just talking. He was my sounding board, he would just listen, not judge, just listen. It would help me.

I thank you all for giving me a minute to share what I just did. I often talk about it, and the more that I share the more it helps me.

Talk to you guys later.