In retrospect, I should have said more.
An old friend once told me, “I don’t write to sell, I write to understand.” Maybe that’s why I keep writing this blog. Although answers are impossible, there is a certain catharsis obtained in diving into the realms of one’s own stream of thought. Although the pain that exists is still potent, why fight it? I may as well confront it and allow it to be. If I’m going to continue writing these blogs, why hold anything back? I may as well spill my own thoughts and throw caution to the wind.
Expose my own miscalculations. How else can this remain real?
The past few months have brought many “damn, he’s not here” moments to the forefront of my mind. I have been traveling for work, and the change of scenery induced many “damn, I’m callin’ Dave” feelings… just acting out on what has been part of my ritual for years and now has been revoked from my arsenal, leaving behind a trail of drifted thought and missed opportunity. Who else could understand exactly what I’m thinking? Who else could possibly appreciate the beautifully brutal nature of my soliloquy? Perhaps no human understood me more than my cousin… we were so much on the same wavelength that it became easy to forget to actually discuss the differences.
Man, I haven’t talked to Dave in WEEKS… oh well, he’s cool, let him live. I’m sure he’s doing something unmentionable… LOL.
As close as we were, we always had a “don’t let your guard down” shield around us. It was just part of “us.” A barrier that frequently broke down depending on the occasion, but one that was always existent and almost transparent to a common observer. Our relationship was just… different. The word “attached” comes immediately to mind, but I realize that that might lack the savoir-faire to describe the way in which he and I interacted. I know for a fact that Tim hated some of our interactions, but he could never deny the camaraderie that existed between me and David. To break it down, we simply were “down.” Everything that that term means multiplied by one thousand… some dudes are your boy. David was my boy, my man, my people, my brother—you name it. The embodiment of “family tie”—purple paisley and all.
With that and many other things being said, I CHOKED.
What a cruel predicament you’ve left us in, Dave.
This is more to ease my own mind than solve any of David’s issues post-mortem. I am not ignorant enough to think my words would have changed anything. Lord knows David had a million friends in his corner. As always, everything I write is simply my own perspective and meant IN NO WAY to offend anyone.
Last summer, we lost touch.
It was nothing new. During the summer months, I knew he was doing his own thing, and I was cool doing my thing, ’nuff said. We never needed to speak every day; we were secure in our friendship, and that was that. But last summer, when the calls and emails stopped, I was admittedly a bit confused. He had really seemed to enjoy taking a “step back” and possibly spending some time as a bit more of a homebody than usual. Almost relating to my situation with a renewed sense of understanding. Maybe it’s not that bad chillin’ once in a while? I loved the fact that I could text/call at any point on a random Tuesday night, and the kid was ACTUALLY watching the game. David and I were on a steady diet of e-mails and calls, almost every day, sometimes 2-3 times a day.
Fuckin’ loved it.
I know that Tim feels the direct sting of this event on a daily basis, whereas I feel it more in a general sense. As I’ve mentioned previously, I did not have the privilege of hanging out with David on a daily basis in some time. I also have my own sons to ease some of the pain. But last spring, it was as if D and I were young again, talking, and laughing about hoops like we had done a million times previously.
So when the conversations ceased, I figured David was embarking on his summer endeavors and had grown weary of the NBA playoff schedule. Boy, was I wrong.
I hadn’t spoken with David since June, and the first thing I heard about him was that he attempted suicide in September. It was only through Tim that I had learned of his recent decline, and I was shocked to hear how quickly he had changed directions.
I went to visit David in Columbia Presbyterian last September. I was not feeling it. When I first heard that he attempted suicide, I broke down. I remember being in my home office, thinking, “NO WAY. This dude ain’t going nowhere. Get you head out of your ass…” When I first talked to him on the phone from the psych ward, he was hesitant… antsy and consumed, but hesitant about what I would say. I remember him saying, “You’re disappointed, huh?” I broke down again… I could barely compose myself to speak to him, forget trying to talk sense into him. I didn’t have any words of wisdom for my boy. I had no idea where this was coming from. After I learned of his downward spiral, I got very angry with him. I knew he had really struggled with Elaine’s death, but I expected more from him.
When you hear word that one of your greatest friends has attempted to kill himself, it is JARRING. (When you hear that the same person, in fact, completed this act, it is an occurrence NEVER recovered from.) I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was thinking. I rode down to NY with close family to meet Tim and see him at the hospital. Visitors could only enter two at a time… I remember not wanting to go first and watching through the square-shaped window into the ward where my cousin was staying.
(As I’ve written, I was in the hospital room when Elaine was pronounced dead. I remember calling my wife from the guest room and telling her Elaine is gone and hearing her sob over the phone. I remember holding David once he had completed his hugs for everyone else… this is not a “save the best for last” scenario… everyone in that room had their own story with David… but NO ONE had my story with David. No one in that room ever did the things I did with him, and no one really knew him like I did. I wondered what they were saying, how they were trying to convey their thoughts to him. These were people closest to David: people that knew him since birth, people he had specifically reached out to.)
I eventually went in to see David with my father and my uncle… two great men who I respect immensely. In fact, my respect for them may be why I was tentative.
I thought how emaciated he looked, clearly thinner than he had been since he was an early teenager. We sat at a table surrounded by other families also visiting their loved ones… one kid swore the entire time. I could tell he made David uneasy, and I honestly thought D might punch the kid at some point. I remember the kid distracting me and not letting me focus properly. I remember my father and uncle talking, trying to sooth in the way they knew how to. I could tell nothing was sinking in. Just watching his expressions told me he was waiting to hear what I would say, although possibly unwilling to accept it and prepared that I might rip into him.
But I didn’t.
In fact, I said very little. I let my anger get the best of me and said relatively little until my time was up. I didn’t want to believe this was happening… I tried to just talk to him about what he was experiencing within the psych ward. Not focusing on the root problems that lead to this improbable locale. I backed down… for all the tough talk, I—usually one for saying exactly what is on his mind—didn’t say enough. Most people I know would probably love for me to say a little less 🙂
I remained steadfast in my demeanor and just watched his eyes dart side-to-side as he fidgeted in his chair. I wanted to elaborate on my feelings, but just couldn’t do it.
I remember hugging him when I left and telling him to call me… and then I left. Just like that.
I swear to God… I wish I could have that time back. I wish I had asked the two gentlemen with me to leave. I wish I had the balls to focus on the task at hand. Much like I’ve done for the hours I’ve spent laboring on this blog. I wish I had turned the chair around, squared David up in my line of sight, and pierced the kid’s soul with all the anger, pain, and sadness I now feel. Laid it out like a big cousin is supposed to… remind the dude that existence is priceless… remind him that I once wanted to take my own existence and thought about it every second of every day before deciding against it… remind him that his incredible mother was a survivor, who endured physical and mental torture for years to give him a better life… remind him that his godmother, my mother, survived encephalitis, Crohn’s disease, and breast cancer to raise four children and also loved him greatly… remind him that his grandparents grew up dirt poor and tried for years to have a child of their own. They adopted my mother (THANK YOU GOD), and when they finally were able to have a child, it was Elaine Price. ‘Nuff said. Perhaps these things were being said… but not from me. Sometimes the Narrator makes all the difference.
Should have reminded him that he was my grandmother’s favorite… that sentence still breaks my heart.
Reminded him that his friends think he is the greatest person on earth and that he probably has 20 that all consider him their “best.”
I should have reminded him that Greg needed him. Todd needed him. We all needed him.
I should have reminded him of the fight we had in Florida where I told him I was going to marry Carline. How it took all my strength to wrestle his little-ass down and to finally apologize for telling him I didn’t trust him. How important it was that he said to me, “You can trust me more than ANYONE,” with tears flooding his face… at the end of one of our greatest days together.
Should have reminded him he still had Tim in his life and that they could have changed the world together. In some shape or form.
Reminded him that… YOU… don’t have to go. We are all here. We all love you.
But I didn’t.
I choked.
Now we are still here… and aching every day.
On the ride home, I allowed my emotions to get the best of me. I said he needed to “man up” and get back to being David. I said he needed to stop acting like a “bitch.” No disrespect to the ladies, just a term that guys use when one of our boys isn’t manning up.
It appears that that day, the term was more appropriate for me.
A couple weeks later, we had a text dialogue. He said he really wanted me to visit. This was after the second attempt. I typed, “If you are going to be honest, I’ll come visit you.”
The last thing he typed to me was, “I’ll be more honest with you than anyone.” I thought, “How many people has he said that to?” Still, I wanted to believe it.
I wrote, “OK, I’ll see you soon.”
He said, “I love you bro.”
I love you, too-
