A strange title I know, but I’m not too sure how else to put it!
Sunday 25th of May 2008 was a day I knew would eventually come, but dearly wished it not to. You see I was fortunate (in some respects, in others unfortunate) that the deaths of people around me all happened before I turned 3 years old. So I had no memory of what it was, what it felt like and really rather sadly, who the people were that died. (The latter actually used to get me upset as a child). Last year changed all of that.
I’d had a couple of beers Saturday night so woke up on Sunday morning pretty late (10am I think). I hadn’t checked my email since early Saturday evening and so when I checked some time around 11am I had a real shock.
A message from one of my friends who lives down London way (where I used to live) messaged me on Facebook to say that one of our friends had died on Saturday and she wanted me to know.
I’d been terrible at keeping in contact and no one had my mobile number or email address so Facebook was the only possible means of contact at the time. Something I’m not proud of but have changed since.
As anyone would I was… I don’t know, lost? Everyone was writing R.I.P. in their statuses so I did too but then it started to settle in my brain a bit more. That and I was desperate to talk to someone about it, to question it and there just wasn’t anyone there!
Late afternoon-ish time I couldn’t stand to be at home. I couldn’t listen to music. I couldn’t sit down. I couldn’t eat. Nothing felt right. So I went for a walk and looked for anywhere remote enough for me to be left alone. I eventually did find somewhere but it didn’t help. I honestly thought perhaps the whole thing was a joke, how could it be possible? Really?
Anyway I walked home and drank many many beers. When it was 11pm the only phone number I had been able to find on Facebook was rather cruelly, the one belonging to the friend who’d died. I didn’t hesitate. I thought if anyone can tell me the truth surely it’s the friend in question?
I rang but when the other end picked up there was silence. Calling out ‘hello? Hello’ repeatedly to no answer left me to hang up.
Then the number rang me. It was my friend’s mother asking me if I knew the number I was ringing and I said ‘yes… I’ve been told [name here] died… I just didn’t believe it.’ At which point she had to tell me it’s true, bursts out into tears which causes me to do the same. I stammered countless apologies because I felt like a complete and utter fool to make her go through doing that.
I somehow managed to sleep and the next morning the friend that messaged me originally rang me and we chatted for well over an hour. A strange conversation like I’ve never had.
Thankfully I wasn’t due in to go to college that Monday as (rather unthankfully) my final exams had started. At which point I didn’t care about my exams anymore. What did a piece of paper mean compared to the loss of a friend’s life? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Her funeral was two weeks later, on the day of one of my maths exams and I had to fight my college to let me off the exam and travel down to near London. I knew that if I was to have any chance of being able to get through this strangeness, it would have to start with the funeral.
The day of her funeral and wake was… unbelievable. Horrible. Terrifying. Just so effin’ wrong. Just seeing a wooden box being carried… in the hearse… at the crematorium. Uh. Really really awful.
Although technically yesterday was the 1st anniversary, I think today and for the next coming years will be the hardest because it was the day I found out and my feelings and thoughts towards so many things dramatically changed.
I realised that for the whole of my life I had always put education first, before anything. Including before friends. When you’ve had a childhood and teenagehood like mine it’s easily done. But for the past year I’ve switched my priorities. Putting all your efforts into education means nothing if you have no one to share your life with.
The next step for me is to waken up to the fact that her death was suicide. Currently in my head I view it that my friend was taken from this world and not that she took her own life. To think about just what she did do, is something I really can’t face. It would mean being so effin’ angry with her, and angry is not something I do. Especially not on my own.
Will I ever face up to the reality of it? I’m tempted to say I doubt it, but who knows. I have huge difficulties in dealing and realising things that happen around me, as I’ve grown into just accepting whatever happens. I still have yet to face the fact that I moved out of my childhood home and my parents divorced which was some 7/8 years ago.
Maybe someday I’ll find the right guy to spend my life with who’ll be the one to help deal with all of the crap. And if no guy turns up I’ll be more than happy with a cat or two. 
Twitter posts from a year ago:
Oh. My. God. Just found out one of my friends committed suicide.
I don’t know how to think/feel/act.Should I be doing something?
I’m drunk and a mess. I rang my friend’s phone to be told that she did indeed overdose yesterday. I can’t deal with this right now. :’(
desperately wishing to be with my friends right now. Why do I live 75 miles away?
I can’t do it. I can’t blog about how I’m feeling. This is just too hard.
Huge kudos goes to Vixx & Sarah. 
And Pumpkin Princess of course! (Kitty, Dita).
