Blindsided

About one and a half years ago, someone very close to me died. The cause of his death was, and will always be, slightly unknown. The cause, I've come to realize, is not what matters anyway. What does matter is that he was young (22 years old), and his death was unexpected. I remember when I found out. For some reason, I was already sad that day. I couldn't figure out why. I just felt blue. Perhaps hormones? I was four months pregnant, after all. Or was it the Bon Iver album, For Emma, that I had on repeat? I still can't listen to a song from that album without feeling the flood of emotions I felt when I found out he died. I heard one of the songs in a coffee shop a few weeks back and I had to excuse myself and run to the bathroom to cry.

I miss my friend very much. Rumor has it that he died from a heroin overdose. Or, that he took a little bit of heroin during a time when his immune system was very weak. We found out that he was HIV positive. I had no idea. I mean NO idea. At all. I am trying to imagine a living a life with so much secrecy. So badly I wish I had one more chance to connect with him. To ask him how he is, and to invite him over for dinner, just to talk. I know exactly what I would say; I've had that speech memorized for a year now. Sometimes I play it over and over in my mind, hoping it will help me sleep.

Blindsided. I was blindsided.

He appeared in a dream soon after he died. I asked him where he had been, and he said he was okay now, and was ready to go home. Then we hugged. And I woke up shivering and grateful.

Last night, I had a dream that I knew where the heroin was that may have been the cause of his death. Like Russian spies, Scott and I intercepted it from the dealer, and we disposed of it. Then, we saw him. And he was bright and shining and healthy and happy.

This time I woke up dazed. In a slump. And I haven't been able to shake it all day.

I miss you. And I am sorry about all of the missed opportunities to be there when you really needed someone. To be your Russian spy.

Love.