I’ve taken some time off. Not deliberately, but somehow I had found myself drifting again. Drifting in a direction that left me numb; an, “I don’t give a shit” attitude, everything is stupid”, and that’s how it was for awhile. In fact, there has been many times I’ve started to write, and nothing seem to be worthy of posting, or I just wanted to block everything out for awhile.

I guess I just didn’t want to feel anymore.

It’s funny because the last post I wrote was about giving up…I don’t even know who that was. Perhaps, I forgot.

Perhaps,  I let myself become numb for too long…

All I could picture in my mind over and over again, was my friend of 16 years in a hospital bed, waiting for a heart transplant, and I kind of just shut down. I started sleeping more; truthfully, I was in a fog. I was so used to being able to call her and talk to her for hours through the night whenever I was anxious or just bored. We always had the best conversations at 2 am, often staying on the phone until we just barely fell asleep. I cherished those phone conversations, and I missed them. But I also recognized that she was going through something far more detrimental than me missing a phone call or a conversation.

When I did speak to her, she was always upbeat and tell me about all the things she was going to do with her new heart. We made plans to hang out and go to her favorite restaurants. She told me how excited she was to be able to truly live life pain free; she couldn’t wait to visit different places, see different things. In particular, she talked often about moving to Virginia because that is where her “psychic” told her she would meet the man she was going to marry. (She was a spiritual person)

The thing was is that she believed and I did not. Perhaps that was a part of the anxiety? I did find comfort when she would talk about her new heart, but it just wasn’t enough to put my subconscious mind at ease.

In a way, I feel like I abandoned her as well as myself.

She was in the hospital in New York City for about 5 1/2 months, undergoing tests, and the doctors trying everything to get the water weight off of her as well as clean her blood. Listening to her, while often comforting because she stayed optimistic, but I could often hear the question in her voice. And I guess I learned to become numb to it, I didn’t want to walk the same path that death was leaving its footsteps. I struggled with her being there, it was selfish, I know, but like I said, I just became numb.

In July, she was transferred back to a hospital near her home. It was at that time that the truth was revealed; she was never going to get a heart because she had too many antibodies in her system and her kidneys were failing. I don’t know the specifics, it was all so confusing to me, and it didn’t even really hit me until the day of my daughter’s high school graduation party when she texted me to tell me she needed to see me.

Her mother was the first to send me a message via Facebook, informing me that her daughter didn’t have much time left, and she knew that now, but she was really worried about how she was going to tell me.

But I already knew. I had known for 2 weeks before she did. Her mother let me know and asked me not to say anything and just stay positive around her. That was the easiest thing to do; it was like I was cast this role and I could be in denial without feeling like a piece of shit. After all, I was just doing what I was told.

They say life is fleeting; every moment should be cherished, but for the last few months, I dedicated every moment to improving my strength in the gym, and with every lift, I could only feel the grip that death had on me, I wasn’t in that hospital bed, dying, but I was out here, walking the same grave path. I wanted to hurt, I wanted to feel pain, but I could do nothing to stimulate those feelings.

Nothing felt the same, when I wrote, I wasn’t sure it was really my voice that was speaking, when I took a picture and looked at myself, I wasn’t sure if that was me in the image that was captured.

It was probably the same unrecognizable image; the same voice that came out of me, as she looked at me in the hospital room that evening, her eyes not directly looking at me, maybe she saw it too?

I just started crying, I knew; I already knew, and I wanted to stop her from saying it, I wanted to tell her I knew.

I wanted to comfort her, but through it all, I initially was angry at myself. .

I was so angry that I allowed myself to grow away from her; to become numb; that I didn’t spend more time talking to her, laughing with her, crying with her, all because I chose to empty out my emotions right on the gym floor instead.

And now there I sat, pleading for her not to go. It felt so selfish, I didn’t want her to leave. She cried and said that she wasn’t ready to let go either, but she had no choice. She was my anchor. She always was. And in that moment, when I should’ve felt like drowning, I embraced her and felt her lean into me, her frail body, weak from fighting for so long, that’s when I truly understood God’s plan. I was doing what I was supposed to be doing all along. I was physically and mentally preparing for our last moment together. All this time, God was simply granting me the tools to be strong, mentally and physically for our last moment together, and for every moment thereafter; He had been preparing me for this moment for a long, long time. And in that moment, it was Him who allowed me to hold her up; to be strong for her in that moment when she was at her weakest.

She died 4 days later. The following day, my mind kind of in a fog, I escaped to the park for a cardio circuit, Small golden butterflies floated around me, and I just knew it was a sign of the beginning of a transformation.

I knew it was a sign from her.