In the Shadows for a Moment…

“Wow… you’re so sweet , I’m a mess right now. Let us see what the future will hold. You amaze me, with your kindness. I will see you again. Thank you so much for so much i don’t deserve; you’re great.”

That was the last thing Josh said to me. I woke up this morning and found out that he died almost a week ago. I immediately thought he had killed himself. His friends told me that he had died at home, in his bed. One explanation is a brain aneurysm, while another has to do with a new medication that was possibly combined with alcohol or something else. Apparently, there’s going to be an autopsy because there are a lot of questions surrounding his death. But, ultimately, it doesn’t matter… the fact is, a beautiful young man is dead. His funeral is on Sunday and my heart is fucking broken for his family and all who were close to him.

I met Josh at the drum circle on his 25th birthday. We talked a lot that night, and I told him about the book I’m writing. He listened intently to what I said, and I was amazed to learn that he was even familiar with one of the suicide prevention organizations I support.

When we said goodbye, he told me that he couldn’t wait to see me again. He gave me a soft kiss on the neck, and it wasn’t until I drove away that I realized we hadn’t exchanged contact information. I thought about him non-stop until I saw him again the following week.

Our first date was perfect. We smiled, laughed and kissed the whole time. A random gentleman asked us if we were newlyweds. Josh said that I made him nervous, but in a good way. I told him that I felt like I’ve known him for a long time… he seemed familiar, even though we had just met. We kissed goodbye in the rain that night.

I went to visit my family for Thanksgiving, and we communicated every day. He said that he was thankful to have met me, and I told him the same. I got back to St. Pete on a Sunday evening. I couldn’t wait to see him, and I was so excited for my best friend to meet him for the first time. We hung out at the drum circle, and before heading back to my house, we took a walk on the beach. He brought me to an area where there was a sandcastle building competition days before. The sandcastles were starting to fall. We admired some of the broken sculptures and ran on top of the ruined ones. I felt playful and full of joy around him.

We stayed up for most of the night, and he shared with me… he had just gotten out of a four-year relationship and was having a hard time. He told me that he had anxiety and that he sometimes drinks too much. We talked about writing. Poetry was his release.

In the days that followed, things began to change. I started to receive text messages in the middle of the night. Scary messages that worried me. One said, “It’s nights like these when I feel like giving up. It’s nights like these when I don’t give a fuck.” Another text: “last thing you want to say.” I tried to shower him with positive words and make him feel valued. I know that he was suffering from a broken heart… trying to drown it in alcohol, which only made things worse. During one of the late night calls, he said that he never sleeps and that he drinks every night.

Soon, the phone calls and text messages became less frequent. I wanted closure and I needed to know that he was ok. So, I tried to reach out to him. I brought him journals… a place to keep his words when things were bad. In the big journal, I wrote this: “Set good intentions and surround yourself with positive people. Happiness is inevitable if you just listen and embrace it.” I also gave him a pocket sized journal, so he could carry it with him and write whenever he needed it. That one said, “When inspiration strikes, take the time to honor it.”

Then, a couple weeks ago, I stopped hearing from him completely. I told him that I was here for him if he ever needed someone to talk to and that I honored him and valued him. The last thing he said to me was the message I started this blog with. I knew he was suffering, but I didn’t want to bother him, so his message to me was our last communication.

I’ve been visiting his Facebook page every few days because I’ve been worried about him so much. In doing so, I always found poetry that scared me even more. These are some of his last words…

and my body lies as it hits the ground , i hear them start the statement, he was such a good soul but then they catch themselves, this is my hell this is my hell

grab my hand and let us pray, i scream please get the fuck away

I’m reckless and free now. You can’t touch me now. My heart breaks for no one.

DIE YOUNG AND SAVE YOURSELF!!

I don’t know what was worse… the scary messages or none at all. I was out of town for Christmas. I thought about him, though, and secretly hoped I would run into him at the drum circle on Sunday. I logged onto his Facebook page this morning… it had been almost a week since I last checked, and the first thing I saw was information about his service, along with RIP messages. My brain is fucking jumbled right now. I’m sharing this because I have to.