I've written you a lot of letters since you died. I've written a lot about you since you died. I keep feeling like I have to do something with all of it, but I know that's not the point of the whole thing. The whole writing to you, about you, for you. It's not about sharing. It's about grieving. And I am grieving.
And grief is not a linear thing. There's parts of it, right, that we all know about. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. People say those things happen in that order and that's the grieving "process", implying somehow that it's progressive. That you feel one thing, move on to the next, eventually reach acceptance and then *poof* you feel ok about everything. But that's simply not true. At least it's not true for me. I have felt every stage of this grieving "process" since you died, and I continue to feel each one, sometimes more than one at a time. I have been angry, I have been depressed, I have accepted that it happened, I have denied it could be true, and I have bargained about it. Everyday is like playing some shitty magic trick with myself where I draw another card from the grief deck and carry it around for the day. My years of unfortunate experience and education in grief have taught me that it is likely going to be this way for a long time. And I have to be ok with that because that's how I am. I am still grieving the loss of my cousin and we lost him six years ago. I just feel things for a long long time. And I can tell you one thing I will feel forever. It is that I love you. I can't even talk about it because it makes me cry so bad, and I get a seriously ugly face when I cry and it makes others uncomfortable. Is there a phase of the grief cycle for that? Hysterical weeping? That's what happens when I think about how I love you and how you are not here; I leak out of my eyes. Eventually the crying will stop but I will never stop loving you. That is just a fact. It was a fact when you were alive and it is a fact now.
For a time I considered the likelihood you were playing a joke on everyone and weren't actually dead. And that, at some point, you would pop out from around a corner and shout "got you good, fuckers!". And everyone would be mad at you but also it would be the happiest day. I mean, I'm telling you, I considered this. I tried to scheme on how it could be possible. I tried to convince myself it could. Denial.
Once, when a moth followed me around all night after I got home from work, I believed it was you. It was the biggest, coolest moth I had ever seen (and I'm not especially into bugs). Since late nights were always the times we had our longest, best talks I thought this must be you, here to say goodnight to me again. And I believed it. That you were that bug! What a crazy, unpredictable universe, I thought. If you can find a way to come back and this is it, and you're telling me it's ok, then it really is ok. And then I said goodnight to that moth and felt very peaceful. Acceptance.
When I order something online and it never comes in the mail, I obsess about it and create a furious scenario wherein I must seek justice. When my dad tries to hassle me about the detailed plans for the day before I've had any coffee, I storm around huffing. When I can't attach a file in an email I slam the computer closed and say screw it to the whole thing. When I have to take the trash out I curse the trash for having to be taken out. Anger.
I have actually spoken out loud to the god-universe-whatever-it-is and made promises about what I would do differently to make you stay. "I will watch him 24 hours a day" "I will buy him a dog" "I will remind him how amazing he is over and over until it makes him sick" "I will make music with him" "I will tie him down and wait for him to get over the terrible things he is feeling". Bargaining.
I cry in the back of cabs and on city busses and while I'm doing my job and when I talk to strangers and as I brush my teeth. I am always hungry and eating makes me nauseous. I am exhausted and I never sleep. I am achieving great things and I could care less. I feel like I am living outside myself. Depression.
And all these sorts of things happen in one tragic kaleidoscope all the time. It's the undercurrent of my days. But I'm not upset about it. I know that it is happening because I love you. And I will never stop feeling grateful for being given the opportunity to love you.
But it's been incredibly lonely to miss you. You had friends (so, so many friends) and I have friends, and we kind of had friends together, but our friendship was a completely isolated relationship. We talked everyday, but it was just us. You told me things about you and I never knew who else shared those parts of you. I never thought it would matter, except now, you're gone, and I carry around the ghost of this incredibly important friendship and no one knows. And it is not the point for anyone to know, but it would be so much nicer if there was just another person there to comfort me and say "I know how much you meant to each other". And I have the Giraffe, and he says it all the time, but even though he is my partner and best friend not even he was a part of our friendship. I just feel isolated in this grief. You weren't just a person I knew. You were one of my dearest friends.
So it's five in the morning and I have been having this thought for the last couple days about what I want to say to you and it's this:
Stop it. I love you.
Stop killing yourself. So many people love you.
Stop it. I love you.
And that's an insane idea because you are already gone! But I keep thinking it. I wish you could stop it. I would do anything to make that possible. But in recognition of this never being possible, I will continue to cry and wipe the mascara off my face and get angry and reaffirm my need to succeed at my life and talk to you and think of you and look over my shoulder for you and tell the people that are still here that I love them. Because that's all I can do. And wherever you are I hope it gets to you that I love you, too.
I just have to keep thinking it and writing things like this that don't make sense and listening to the same songs over and over and over because sometimes it's all I can do. And I will probably be writing about you or to you or for you for the rest of my life. Because I am a sentimental motherfucker. Because I feel things for a long long time. Because you were a smart funny caring loving thoughtful talented person. Because understanding those things about you and then understanding why you needed to leave this world is nearly impossible. Because I love you.
I've said it many different ways, at many different times. But tonight I am saying it this way. On the internet. To no one in particular. Except you, if you can hear me.
Goodnight. I love you.
C
*Before he passed, Derek's band was finishing their upcoming album. Please consider donating to help this album get made. In honor of Derek, and for his talented bandmates. This incredible music deserves to be heard. Donate here: Sick Secrets
