Hear You Me, So Long, Goodbye

It’s the week after the 4th of July, and I’m coming back from Anime Expo when I hear the news that an old friend of mine has just passed away. They had gotten into an accident that led to them being in a coma but unfortunately their brain activity ceased and the family decided to let their daughter pass.

I am no stranger to loss and to death. Since I was a young child, I had come to known the bitter loneliness and piercing cold that comes with losing someone important to you. Even with all that experience, something inside of me broke when I heard about her death. The drive home after the news broke was the first time I had screamed with all of my anger and frustration since that November night in 2010 when my friend was murdered.

It’s not only that I had lost my friend, someone who had been important and dear to me, it’s that I also lost the peace I had found knowing this person had finally found their way in life. That I could no longer enjoy and find comfort in knowing that they had found happiness and were living a wonderful and fulfilled life. That they had gotten out of the darkness which haunted them for so long, that had embraced the light they had created in their life and chose moved forward. That their future, which deserved to be bright, deserved to be full of peace and happiness, was no longer possible. My friend who had brought nothing but joy to the people in her life, who had nothing but hope and a happy bubbly personality for those she cared for in her life, could no experience the amazing future she had awaiting her. Although we had grown apart as the years drifted by, as we each started to lead our own lives, I had never once forgotten the friend she was to me during one of the toughest moments in my life.

I was living in my car during university. A secret at the time, a lie I had to uphold so that nobody would worry about me. I know that goodwill eventually runs out and I didn’t need pity from anyone. I understood the rigorousness that came with having to find safe places to park, properly covering my windows, selecting food from the food bank that didn’t have to be cooked, having to wake up early to use the gym as a shower, and marking locations that were open 24 hours and had available bathrooms. But it was a lonely experience having to lie to everyone about my living situation. But there comes that friend, whose conversations through these trying times helped me ground myself and helped make those nights in my car feel a little like home. I distinctly remember us challenging each other in Tetris and her being so ridiculously good that I legit had to train to even be a worthy opponent for her. Those days battling each other in Tetris helped lessen the burden of living in my car during university. It helped me feel a little bit normal. Eventually, we talk about some of our struggles and she shares with me that she struggles with clinical depression. You would have never guessed from how brightly she shined amongst the group and how deeply she cared and sparked joy in others. I did not know it at the time, but I too was suffering from depression. These moments that we shared are forever etched onto my heart and soul, for these were the moments that helped me slowly keep on keeping on. These moments we shared, helped me be here today.

If you’ve read the entirety of this blog, you would know that suicide, depression, and self-worth are things I struggle with extensively in my life. She was one of the few people I met in my life to see the whole me, and better yet, still choose to just be the same amazing person she always was. Our conversations, how she carried herself in her life despite her burdens, it left a strong impression on me. To be born with such darkness yet still be able to choose the light. I was too young to truly appreciate and understand the kindness she showed me at that time. Which is why I write this now, why these words that follow are for her:

“Hey you, do you remember how we used to play Tetris and versus each other? When I saw your high score I went ‘I can beat that’ and after grinding like crazy, I whooped your ass. Then you said ‘nah uh, 1v1’ and you proceeded to molly whop me into oblivion and that gave me another reason to grind. This was the start of our friendship and conversations. I don’t remember how it came up but when you told me you were depressed, I was afraid to tell you I was too. I didn’t know what depression was back then, hell I didn’t even know who I was back then.

Truth be told, when you told me you were struggling with depression, I was scared to stay friends and connected. Simply because at the time, I only ever saw depression as a place with no way out. With no happiness in it. Yet I was a fool because you lived life more fully than most, even with that demon trying to pull you down. You taught me that you didn’t have to let your demons influence who you want to be.

But thanks for still being my friend, a good friend. Thanks for always randomly checking up on me. I never forgot to tell you happy birthday every year, it’s still on my calendar. I’m glad I got to show you some photos from Japan and above all else, I’m glad to have heard from everyone you were doing so well in life.

You were the little sister I never got. Someone supportive, caring, hopeful, and always on your side. You brought light and joy wherever you went. When I heard you died, I screamed louder than I had ever in my entire life. Even though we had stopped communicating because life just took us in different directions, I still felt comfort and peace knowing you were alive and happy in life. A piece of me is gone forever now that you’re gone, a part of my soul is forever burdened with the sadness of your death. I travelled to Europe you know, to find some semblance of peace. I remember you wanting to see that Ghibli Park when I lived in Japan. If I had known there would be so little time left, I would have gone in an instant. I tried to go this year but it was all booked. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to go there and visit for you one of these days.

This year has been rough. On the day you died, I went on a huge road trip to try and make peace with all the things left unsaid. On that empty beach, I told you all the things I wished I could have said in this life:”