My best friend of over 20 years passed away recently. He was also my first love.
We were together when I was young, and he ended the relationship because I think, at the time, he wanted what he thought was a “normal life.” He told me he had seen his ex-girlfriend, wanted a family, and felt like he was holding me back. He also said he could tell I wasn’t satisfied with him, but the truth is, I was. I really was. I never wanted it to end.
He told me his love didn’t go away, it just changed. I tried to convince him not to end things, but it was over. I had no choice but to accept it. Eventually, I dated other people, but we remained close friends. We texted almost every day, talked on the phone, checked in on each other, and stayed connected for years.
I had a tragedy in my life when my sister was killed. Hardly any of my friends showed real support, but he did. Even though we were no longer together, he was there for me in a way I will never forget.
There was one moment years later when he had been drinking a little, and he kissed me. It led to us making out, though nothing overtly sexual happened. He said, “It’s just been so long.” I felt that spark again, but he never brought it up afterward, so I didn’t either.
He eventually ended up in a relationship with a man, and I was happy for him. One day, I randomly ran into them together. He was happy to see me because, even though we talked all the time, we rarely saw each other in person. He grabbed my hand and jokingly said, “I guess I will introduce you to my fat ass boyfriend,” while rolling his eyes. His boyfriend was actually nice to me and even took a picture of us together.
That relationship eventually ended, and I know my friend was hurt, though he never told me the full story. After that, we started seeing each other more often in person. We would go out to eat and spend time together, and that continued for years.
Sometimes I wonder if, in the years after we broke up, I was looking for him in other people. I don’t think I was consciously trying to replace him with someone like him, but I do know this: he was honestly the best relationship I have ever been in. We never shouted at each other. We never fought. Even after the relationship ended, we never had a bad word between us. We never even really argued or got mad at each other. There was always this softness between us, even when life moved on.
Then recently, he told me he had cancer. It was rare, aggressive, and involved two different types. I tried to be supportive. One day I called him and he sounded rough. He told me that if the next treatment didn’t work, there was nothing else they could do for him. When I called again, he sounded even worse. I had this intuition that something was very wrong. I sat outside on my steps in a daze.
I texted him and told him I was coming. I had asked before if he wanted me to come, and he said I didn’t have to. This time, I didn’t care. I drove almost five hours to see him at the hospital.
He was dying.
He had lost so much weight, and I just started crying. I held his hand, and we talked for a while. Then he told me they were going to put him on hospice. My heart broke. He said it was okay. It wasn’t. They gave him only a few weeks.
I stayed with him until his brother came. His family had never met me before, and he introduced me as his friend. I brought him a gift and a very personal letter. Nothing in it revealed our past, but I did say I had known him for over 20 years. Later, his sister-in-law told me what a beautiful letter it was. He read it too.
His family didn’t know about his private life. We sat together for a while and watched one of his favorite old TV shows. I massaged his feet because he could hardly walk and had so much fluid buildup. Then I left and told him I would come back the next day.
I still wish I had stayed that night.
When I came back, I held his hand so tightly. I regretted leaving. The last thing he said to me was that he loved me and not to worry, that I would see him again. I made it back home and texted him. He replied that he hoped I had a good trip and sent me a hug emoji. That was the last message I ever got from him.
I cried nonstop that night and for days afterward.
A few days later, his sister called and introduced herself. I had never met her before. She told me he had passed away. It happened days around the anniversary of my sister’s death, which made everything feel even heavier. I was devastated. Heartbroken. Shattered.
I made it through work, went home, and sobbed. Later, his sister texted me and said, “I know you meant a lot to him,” and asked me to be a pallbearer. I said yes.
At his funeral, I felt a level of emotional heartbreak I have not felt since my sister died. But this felt different. Seeing him in that casket broke something in me. Now I keep thinking about the what-ifs, the memories, and everything that could have been.
Part of me wonders if I was still “in love” with him. I know I loved him, but it feels deeper than romance. I feel like a part of my soul is gone. My heart is shattered. I honestly feel like he may have been the love of my life. I don’t know if I’m only saying that because he’s gone, but I can honestly say a part of me never stopped caring and never stopped loving him.
Am I being obsessive? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just grieving. Maybe this is what happens when someone was woven into your life for over 20 years.
I think his family knows now, or at least suspects there was something deeper between us. His sister texted me, “I love you for loving my brother. I am so happy I got to meet you.”
And I don’t even know what to do with all of this grief, love, regret, and memory. I just know I miss him terribly.