*Please note that I wrote this last year, and I debated on whether or not to publish it. I finally decided that I wanted to share it. I still miss my friend, and hope that it helps someone else cope with their grief as well.*
…that I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do.
But, to tell that story, I have to tell another story. When I was a sophomore in college, I met a guy by the name of Tom online. Actually, I read his blog, and we started talking online. We seemed to really hit it off so I, being slightly impulsive at this point in my life, drove many miles across the state to visit him one night. I won’t forget that night – I parked my car and walked slowly to the door of his dorm. It was there I saw him getting off the elevator, looking out the window for me. Tom had a heart attack a little while before I met him (yes, even though he under 30), and used a cane to walk. He looked so dapper striding out to meet me. I was so nervous – he told me about his room and floormates as we rode the elevator up.
When we got to his room, we watched some silly tv show and talked. And talked. He was so sweet that night – he didn’t want me to drive all the way back to my school that night; he offered to sleep on the floor so I could use his bed. But I refused; I drove all the way back “home”, but he insisted that I call and let him know I made it.
I think a week went by, and I drove back to see him. He offered to take me dinner, and I accepted. I remember that the server got his last name wrong and it took thirty minutes to be seated. He was such the gentleman – we ordered and talked. And I was so impressed with him; because of his heart attack, he didn’t have much use in his left arm. But even so, he ordered steak – and then had the guts to ask me to cut it for him. Not many people would have done that on a first “date.”
This continued for a while – I would drive to see him and hang out in his dorm. We talked, watched movies. He quickly became a friend. Valentine’s day came around – and Tom sent flowers to my dorm. A dozen red roses. Those were the first flowers anyone had ever sent me. It was the most thoughtful and sweet thing that had ever happened to me on Valentine’s Day up to that point. And that next weekend – he drove to see me.
But, it wasn’t meant to be, our relationship. I loved him – I loved his strength, his wit and his humor. But I wasn’t sure if I was in love with him. And then, I lost my license. (Apparently the state of Illinois thought I had one more speeding ticket than I should.) That summer I would have to go home to my parents and wouldn’t be able to see him, since I couldn’t drive myself anywhere. So, I told him that I didn’t think we could continue to see each other. I ended my relationship with Tom.
I heard from him for a little while, on my blog or his. But slowly, I didn’t hear anything from him. No phone calls, no instant messages, no emails. I was sad, because I was sure that he was upset with me. That, or he was giving me the space he thought I wanted.
So, I moved on. I applied (and was accepted) to be a resident assistant on my campus. I continued with my degree, and I met the man who would become my husband. But every once in a while I would think of Tom. But I didn’t think he wanted me to contact him.
Then, one fateful day in 2007, I was talking one of my residents. We were talking about dorms – he had been a resident assistant at his previous school. I told him that sometimes administration makes stupid rooming decisions; one of my friends (Tom) lived on one of the upper floors of his door, even though he had a disability and had to use a cane. My resident looked at me, and asked what school this friend was at. I told him – and he told me the worst thing I had ever heard.
Tom had passed away in his dorm room. Tom’s personal assistant had found him one morning, and he was already gone. I had no idea. The worst part about it though? Tom passed away in 2005. He had been gone for almost two years, and I didn’t know.
I felt like I was in a dark room. I excused myself, and went to my apartment. I sat there, crying for my stupidity and for my friend. I couldn’t believe it. I refused. I told Tim, who I was dating at that time, and he held me as I wept for the man who had shown me such love and compassion and strength. What else could I do? Tom was gone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt like the world’s most horrible person for not trying to keep in touch with him.
Since that time, I have refused to think about it for any length of time. I would think fondly of Tom and the time we spent together, but not that he might be gone.
But over the weekend, I had a very vivid dream about Tom. About one of the nights we spent together at his dorm room. And for some reason, I felt that it meant something. So today, I looked him up. I re-read his blog, and saw our comments back and forth. And I found his obituary, an address to send condolences to, and a photo of his grave site. And after work, I stopped and bought a small red rose plant, and went to the cemetary. I found his grave, and it all became very real. My friend was gone. I knelt by his grave and wept for our short time together. I wept for my ignorance. I wept because I knew he deserved better than he received in his lot in life.
I don’t believe that people are “at” their graves. I have never gone to a grave and spoke to a person that I missed. But today I did. I had to tell Tom I was so sorry. I had to tell him that I missed him. And so, through my tears, I told him.
But for some reason, I couldn’t leave that rose there with him. Those deep red petals reminded me so much of that day he had sent me flowers for Valentine’s Day. So, I told Tom goodbye, and I drove to his old house. His dad’s boat was still in the driveway. So, I screwed up the courage to get out of the car and knock on the door, rose in hand. What would his parent’s think? Would me showing up hurt them, remind them yet again that their son was gone?
I knocked on the door, but there wasn’t any answer. I wrote them a note, and left the plant on their porch. I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do. I do hope that his mom feels a little bit of happiness in the heartache, just like I felt when I found those roses. I can’t go back and change things, but I can remember my friend. And hope that wherever he is now, he knows that I cared for him and miss him to this day.
