24/Feb/2012
Sammy, I’ve just had this massive realisation.
All these 2.5 months we’ve been shedding tears over our loss. I just want to acknowledge — assuming that you’re still around and watching us — that the biggest loss is actually yours.
What if you wanted to live but could not. You seemed so happy when I last saw you. What if you wanted to live longer and do more things but could not. I am so so sorry that no one was around when you took your last breath. It absolutely devastates me to think that maybe you had a moment where you realised that you were dying and you didn’t want that but you couldn’t do anything about it.
You didn’t want to die. Of course you didn’t. You wanted to live life and you were doing an excellent job of living your life. Way to show us all up. I wish you had stayed with me that night. I wish you hadn’t left my place that Sunday night.
Not sure if I could have prevented the inevitable but I would have loved to know what your last thoughts were, if that were possible at all, and somehow been in a position to carry your message forward.
Obviously I have no idea what death feels like but I’ve been told that it feels like a massive release, like an orgasm. I take some solace in knowing that.
I just wish you weren’t alone at the time. All I think of is — two hours after you left my place — you in your bed by yourself, dying, and the only two possibilities that come to mind are
- either you didn’t realise
- or you did
AND BOTH OF THEM FUCKING SUCK ASS.
If you’re still around in any shape or form I want you to know that I kind of get your rather unusual predicament.
If you didn’t realise that you were dying then you didn’t get a chance to experience death and if you did realise then you didn’t get a chance to share it with anyone.
I miss your face, Sam. So much. You were gorgeous. So polite yet so cheeky. So successful yet so earthy. You were one in a billion. I can’t help but cry whenever I’m by myself. It is such a massive loss that I shudder to think how us supposedly advanced humans use such an embarrassingly flawed and inadequate form of communication called language that it fails so hard at expressing grief. Why are we so incapable of communicating simply through emotions? It’s quite ironic because at the end of the day all us humans care about is serotonin and dopamine.
You’ve made me realise I’m not as strong as I thought I was and I thank you for that because even though it’s so sad it’s such a liberating feeling.
I hope you’re okay wherever you are. I want to believe what I’ve been told… that you’re looking over my shoulder as I’m writing this.
You were fucking special and I’m so grateful for our serendipitous encounter.
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