Tonight I watched a film. A film where a woman's husband is killed in front of her by a truck when it hits his car. That woman got to tell him she loved him. I didn't, not properly. Not the way I meant to or wanted to.
I lost someone in the same way, not standing watching mind but the same accident. Decapitated by a truck. That's all I know. It's all I could bear to know at the time and I never asked for any more information. I never have since in the 12 years since it happened and I never will. I don't want to know any more details. He's gone and it doesn't get to hurt more than that.
He was my best friend. The first person I met when we moved here. He was 4 years older than me but we just clicked and he was accepted instantly by my family and me by his. It wasn't strange for anyone we were so far apart in age. He was soon to leave school and I was near the start of secondary school, but we had a weird connection. Friends, the kind who laugh at everything. He had a wicked and bizarre sense of humour and it tickled me. It was everything I wanted to say and be but was too polite. My Mum was besotted by him and he got away with murder in our house. My Dad despaired of him and my sister, well, she wanted to murder him as he was always around taking the mick and generally winding her up. Kind of the annoying brother she'd never had. To me he was mine and adorable.
We spent long days together over summers, walking his dog, shopping, sunbathing, driving around in his old Toyota corolla banger of a car and generally being teenagers. He hung out in my house and me at his. The mums supplied copious amounts of food and hospitality at each house and we generally lapped it all up.
We used to have deep and meaningfuls about ridiculous things. What we would do when we had dated all the famous people we had to and got married to each other and what our kids would be called. It was just a given that when we were grown ups that's what we would do. I remember the day he passed his driving test. He came to pick me up to go for a run and I was in tears as he ran another girl he'd seen en route home before he came for me and as his best friend I should've gotten the first drive in his car. As usual he gave me a push and said 'don't worry wee man you're the first girl that I love that gets to go in my car'. That would work every time and he knew it'd get me in the car and smiling. We then went out a drive to some woods and climbed trees and generally were daft teenagers, smoking marlbro reds and talking about who we fancied. Before we went home he broke his ring pull off his can of coke and slipped it on my finger and said I'd to keep it until I was 26 then we'd get married. 26 was a good age in his opinion as I might have calmed down enough by then to get married. He picked me a bunch of forget me nots and off we went home for the night.
We had lots of memories like that. Fun times, innocent times. Sleepovers at each others houses as we got older and mums who kept their eye on us although all along apparently not really concerned as we were so innocently best friends. He'd tell me regularly he loved me and I would always punch his arm or leg and say 'don't be daft, you can't love your best friend, not like that'. Although deep down I adored him. He liked girls, lots of girls and not just one or two on the go at any given time. I lost track of who was who sometimes and it drove me nuts trying not to drop him in it. There was never a shortage and they always were inevitably heart broken by him. He broke hearts, that's what he did best. Not mine though. You can't break the heart of someone who refuses to give you theirs.
When I passed my driving test he bought me a Ferrari in a box and said when we were married he'd buy me a real one. When it was Christmas he'd buy me novelty furry stockings filled with chocolate kisses. When the world cup was on he bought me a football shirt with my then favourite players name on. He queued for 4 hours to buy me Jason Donovan concert tickets for my 14th birthday. He bought me take that videos and posters. He did all the stuff boys do for their girls and it made me very happy.
As we got older and we both got our own flats and still stayed over with each other and had the all night deep and meaningfuls about life and the future, he sometimes would scare me with things he'd say ( I won't go into details as its private and was for me only) but there was one night it ended in a row and he left with tensions running high. The next day we bumped into each other in the street and the row continued and he said some stuff that really hurt me in the heat of the moment. Afterwards I wouldn't take his calls and he even went so far as to go and speak to my mum to ask her to ask me to forgive him and take his calls. I didn't, not for a long time and he openly flaunted anything and everyone in front of me to cover up how angry he was with me ignoring him. It took a year and he phoned out of the blue and we spoke at last. Not about what we rowed over but he said sorry for things that he'd said and done since and if I never spoke to him again at least he'd had the chance to say sorry. It wasn't the same again for a long time but we started hanging out again sometimes. It was never as easy as it had been. I was sad a lot of the time and hurt still.
When I moved away we stayed in touch and when I was home I'd go to his to stay now and again and he'd cook me dinner and watch a movie. I cherished those times as it wasn't often we got time to be us again.
When I came home to have my daughter he was more distant than ever but once she was here and he cuddled her a few times we got closer again. He'd often accost her in the pram and go for a walk telling folk how gorgeous she was and he even had her playing fruit machines age 19 days. He was mad and I used to watch him with her and smile to myself at how lucky I was to have him back to myself, even if it was only now and again. Both our lives had moved on but I felt a bond I knew only we had. Girls came and went in his life but we would always be friends.
I'd been home around a year when we had a night at my flat where I made dinner and we put the little one down to bed and sat up chatting. That was the night I wondered if I'd made the right choice to always keep him at arms length. We chatted like old times and laughed a lot. We'd both grown up a lot and maybe I was wrong not to just take a chance. That Saturday we went to a party and had a good night, at the end of the night I decided to tell him what I'd been thinking and see what he said. Outside later on we had a chat and I said I thought maybe we should speak during the week and what night was he off and we'd have dinner or something. He said Wednesday and I said that suited me, I'd come to him with dinner. He hugged me kissed my cheek and said he'd see me then.
On the Tuesday night I had a bad feeling. I was at my mums for dinner and kept saying it felt like someone had walked over my grave. I went home not feeling well and she kept my daughter over night for me. I had horrible dreams that night about shadows in my flat of a man watching me.
At 9am on the Wednesday I got a phone call from a close friend to tell me that my friend had been killed at 4pm the day before in a Road Accident. A head on collision with a truck. After that I don't remember much. I phoned my mum and she and dad came down and sat with me all day while I sobbed my heart out. All I could think was why didn't I say I'd see him on Monday or call him or anything to speak to him. I thought I had forever to get round to whatever. I didn't know what!
For days I just barely functioned. I couldn't sleep, people visited and came to sympathise. People I hadn't seen for a long time came to see how I was and it was then I realised that these people knew us as kids and knew how much he meant to me. Maybe more than I did. I had loved the bones of him. Completely. I think I hurt him more than once. I know I did. We had cried together when we made up over arguments, he'd stroked my hair while I cried over my papa dying. He hugged me when I was scared of things. He was my special someone. He always will be.
Its been 12 years and I don't think a day goes by when I don't think about him. Not to disrespect anything I have now, not even slightly. Things happen that make me smile daily and I think he'd have gotten why. Sometimes no one else does but he would. He always did. There's not a month goes by without at least one sleepless night from a dream with him in it. I sometimes wonder if the physical pain of missing someone like that ever goes. It hasn't for me. Sometimes I smell him and I forget for a second and it hits hard when I remember hes gone forever. Not just a fight or an argument and we'll make up, forever gone.
I miss him and always will and I'm sorry, sorriest of sorrys ever I never said what I had to say. I'll never make that mistake again. Its a hard lesson to learn but I am sorry.
A close friend took me to see a spiritualist she had used before years later and she told me that I have a young man with me holding a bunch of forget me nots. He stays with me with love. No one else could possibly know that. Maybe I want to believe that I don't know but if it's true its nice to know. I'm not spiritual much but things have happened when I know hes here somewhere. If he's watching me type this well, I've said it now and only sorry I didn't say it when it mattered. Sorry.