I ‘d been stalling. I made up one excuse after another. Finally, my hand was forced after eight years. An appraiser was coming to the house. I had to deal with this.
My friend Eric had hung himself in the bedroom of my apartment over the garage. My brother found him for me; after I begged, explaining that Eric was very uncharacteristically not answering my phone calls. (Eric and I were very close.)
My brother was really mad at me over having to find Eric’s dead body and he stayed mad for years until Robin Williams (my brother’s all-time favorite ) hung himself.
My brother finally peaced-out.
Together, just last week, we climbed up the stairs and went into the room. The coroner had done the initial dirty work but I needed to empty out the room and get rid of all of Eric’s old things. We loved to cook together and he had some of my old cookbooks mixed in with his.
Going through his things was like visiting with him. I saw his hand-writing on a piece of paper and for a terrifying nanosecond wondered if it was a note for me. It wasn’t.
But this was painful in a way that I cannot explain. It hurt in a place that I didn’t know could ache. Now, finally, after eight long years, I have finally said goodbye.
I am no longer hung up.
NOTE: I originally posted this in 2014. I dreamt about Eric last night. My heart still aches. This tragedy was in Sept of 2006. It felt like visiting with him while I read this again. I guess I am still trying to say goodbye. Maybe I am still hung up.