The call from his sister came at 3:17am Monday morning. His broken body was found on the sidewalk next to his building where he had dropped in the early hours of the morning. There was a two word note to me in his apartment that simply said, “I’m sorry.” What the fuck?
Five years ago I sat looking at this view, happy, enjoying life with someone who I loved and who I thought loved me. Would life ever be the same? No. Will I ever fully understand what went on in Gabe’s mind that night? No. Do I wish he would have said something to me? Yes. The point of all this is to recognize something that creeps into your soul in the darkness, something that is impossible to understand and to know with any certainty.
When is the last time that you will see someone, or share an experience? So much is taken for granted that should not be. “See you tomorrow.”
“Let’s meet on Friday for a drink,” even “Good night.” When I kissed Gabe goodbye that Sunday night five years ago, I told him I would call the next day and see him the following Friday, and he agreed. He told me that he enjoyed the weekend and would miss having me next to him in bed but what happened after that? If I knew that this was the last time that I would see him, the last time that I would kiss him, the last time that I would hear his voice, would I have done anything differently? Maybe, but what?
There are many last times in life and perhaps it is better that we don’t know when we are experiencing one. What would you do if you realized that the very moment you were experiencing was the last one of its kind in your life? I believe it would drive a sane person mad so maybe it is better to not know and just live with regret. I wonder.