Nick gave me a little plaque that says that for my birthday in 2004, along with the silver Humanity Bracelet. When he gave it to me, it was in a bag that said it was from his mom. But we talked about it a few months ago when he was here and he said that it was from him, but his mom couldn't afford to buy anything for me so he let her give it to me. I have it on the chest next to my bed, so it's the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing I see before I fall asleep.
I can't help but wonder if he still felt that way, even after all of the nasty things we said to one another. One of his last text messages to me said something along the lines of, "Well, at least now I am seeing the real you." My reply was, "Now you know that isn't true, Nick. You've hurt me more than I ever thought possible."
It made me realize that he really thought I was a good person, and that I had shattered that image with the nasty, overly emotional things I had said to him the last time we talked. I hope he hears me telling him how sorry I am, and how much I love and miss him.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Tomorrow?
No thank you.
I would seriously just like to skip it. I can't imagine not getting a phone call or text message from him. It didn't matter if we were angry with one another, on a "break", or just hadn't talked in a while for whatever reason, we ALWAYS talked on birthdays and holidays.
If I could fast forward to January, I would do it in a heartbeat. Maybe then I'd be one step closer to being okay. I try. I try really hard to be okay, to not think about it, and just when I start thinking I am doing a good job... Then the bottom breaks out.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable with the things I've written, or things I've said. I know you don't know what to say to me to make things better. Here's the thing, nothing you can say WILL make it better, or easier, but just knowing that you care about me, that I am in your thoughts and prayers, that's what I need. I guess I've felt like people have been avoiding me. Then again, maybe I've cut myself off. I've had so many offers to "just call/let me know if you need anything" and there have been so many times that I HAVE just wanted to talk, or just wanted a hug, or just wanted to get out and do something besides sit in my apartment surrounded by memories of him. But I pick up the phone and stare at it when those times hit me. It's like I'm frozen, unable to complete a phone call to anyone other than Krystal (who bless her heart has been my saving grace through all of this) or Kelley (who seems to know just when I need to talk, or cry). I've only talked to Denise twice since "it" happened. She's got so much going on, that she doesn't need my stuff to worry about.
Bear is getting BIG! He's in one of those weird growth spurts where is legs are too long for his body so he's really clumsy and goofy. He's SO smart, though. We're working on obedience training, which is trying my patience because he is stubborn as a mule. Also, I can't imagine the "music" Nick and Bear made sleeping in the same bed. I swear Bear snores as loud as Nick. When Nick came to visit me Memorial Day weekend, he was snoring so loud I got up and went to sleep on the couch. I got back in bed before he woke up, but when he walked out of the bedroom he saw the blanket on the couch he asked if I had slept on the couch. When I told him I had because of the snoring he felt awful and said, "Why didn't you just nudge me?". Nick was always a really heavy sleeper, his mom always had a hell of a time getting him up for school, and you should have heard the volume his alarm clock was set on! But all I had to do was nudge him, and say, "Baby?" and he'd say, "Sorry, Darlin'" and roll over, or ladle me. See, we didn't spoon, we ladled. The first time we ever slept together, and I mean SLEPT was January 17, 2004 (which was also our first date) we got in bed, kissed a little, okay, kissed A LOT, and then I rolled over and told him to spoon me. He had no idea what spooning was. So I cuddled into him, wrapped his arms around me and said, "THAT'S spooning." Well, he didn't think we were quite close enough, so he drew me closer, pulled his legs up, which pulled my legs up, and said, "We aren't going to spoon, we are going to ladle."
Bear is getting BIG! He's in one of those weird growth spurts where is legs are too long for his body so he's really clumsy and goofy. He's SO smart, though. We're working on obedience training, which is trying my patience because he is stubborn as a mule. Also, I can't imagine the "music" Nick and Bear made sleeping in the same bed. I swear Bear snores as loud as Nick. When Nick came to visit me Memorial Day weekend, he was snoring so loud I got up and went to sleep on the couch. I got back in bed before he woke up, but when he walked out of the bedroom he saw the blanket on the couch he asked if I had slept on the couch. When I told him I had because of the snoring he felt awful and said, "Why didn't you just nudge me?". Nick was always a really heavy sleeper, his mom always had a hell of a time getting him up for school, and you should have heard the volume his alarm clock was set on! But all I had to do was nudge him, and say, "Baby?" and he'd say, "Sorry, Darlin'" and roll over, or ladle me. See, we didn't spoon, we ladled. The first time we ever slept together, and I mean SLEPT was January 17, 2004 (which was also our first date) we got in bed, kissed a little, okay, kissed A LOT, and then I rolled over and told him to spoon me. He had no idea what spooning was. So I cuddled into him, wrapped his arms around me and said, "THAT'S spooning." Well, he didn't think we were quite close enough, so he drew me closer, pulled his legs up, which pulled my legs up, and said, "We aren't going to spoon, we are going to ladle."
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Would it be easier, or just different?
If Nick had died in an accident, or from cancer or something, would it be easier to deal with? Or understand?
I've only known one other person that committed suicide, and that was back in high school. I wasn't really close to him. I mean, we were friends. We were lab partners in photography, and while it was hard not having him in class after he died, I think it was easier to deal with because we had such a strong support system. I think we all helped each other through it, and it helped having people around that knew exactly what I was feeling because they were feeling the exact same thing for the most part.
Another friend attempted suicide in college, but was found in time. Thank God. And while I think she still suffers from depression, I don't think that she would ever put her family and friends through that again. At least I hope not since she has a husband and 2 children...
Back to the original thought of this entry- would I have all these questions if the circumstances surrounding his death were different? Would I still feel so guilty? Confused? Frustrated? Angry? There are times when I slip back into denial. Like I'll start to convince myself that he's not dead, that that was not him in the casket. Like he's Elvis or something... Boy, would he love that. He was an Elvis fanatic. I've never been a big Elvis fan, but his love for all things Elvis was one of his most endearing qualities. He had two Elvis pictures in his bathroom, and one of them was in front of the toilet. I used to give him a hard time and tell him that Elvis watched me when I was in the bathroom. He would grab me and throw me on the bed and tickle me, which would usually lead to other "stuff" and he'd tell me that Elvis could have only been so lucky.
He never cared what I looked like. Whether or not I had makeup on. how much weight I had gained since the last time I saw him. He always told me that he was so lucky to have me, and that he didn't deserve me, or my love. One of the last things he said to me the last time I saw him in July was, "You are so damn sexy, Darlin'." I was walking in front of him about to get into the elevator at the hotel. I turned around and he was blushing because he had kind of said it under his voice and I guess he didn't think I could hear him. Now, I could have maybe understood it if I had made any kind of an effort that morning, but I was prepared for an 8 hour car ride to Alabama so I was not looking my best. That picture of us, that was that morning. I had gotten out of the shower, thrown on minimal makeup, pulled my hair back while it was still wet, put on that cap, and was wearing jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. And that "Darlin'" part?
Made me melt. Everytime. That was his nickname for me. It wasn't necessarily the word, so much as it was the way he said it. I'd give anything to have that recorded somewhere so I could hear it again. I do have three messages saved that he'd left on my answering machine about two years ago... I don't know why I saved them, but I would listen to them before I'd go to bed almost everynight that I didn't actually talk to him. From the first time we talked on the phone, I knew that I wanted that voice to be the first I heard when I woke up, and the last I heard before I went to sleep.
I've only known one other person that committed suicide, and that was back in high school. I wasn't really close to him. I mean, we were friends. We were lab partners in photography, and while it was hard not having him in class after he died, I think it was easier to deal with because we had such a strong support system. I think we all helped each other through it, and it helped having people around that knew exactly what I was feeling because they were feeling the exact same thing for the most part.
Another friend attempted suicide in college, but was found in time. Thank God. And while I think she still suffers from depression, I don't think that she would ever put her family and friends through that again. At least I hope not since she has a husband and 2 children...
Back to the original thought of this entry- would I have all these questions if the circumstances surrounding his death were different? Would I still feel so guilty? Confused? Frustrated? Angry? There are times when I slip back into denial. Like I'll start to convince myself that he's not dead, that that was not him in the casket. Like he's Elvis or something... Boy, would he love that. He was an Elvis fanatic. I've never been a big Elvis fan, but his love for all things Elvis was one of his most endearing qualities. He had two Elvis pictures in his bathroom, and one of them was in front of the toilet. I used to give him a hard time and tell him that Elvis watched me when I was in the bathroom. He would grab me and throw me on the bed and tickle me, which would usually lead to other "stuff" and he'd tell me that Elvis could have only been so lucky.
He never cared what I looked like. Whether or not I had makeup on. how much weight I had gained since the last time I saw him. He always told me that he was so lucky to have me, and that he didn't deserve me, or my love. One of the last things he said to me the last time I saw him in July was, "You are so damn sexy, Darlin'." I was walking in front of him about to get into the elevator at the hotel. I turned around and he was blushing because he had kind of said it under his voice and I guess he didn't think I could hear him. Now, I could have maybe understood it if I had made any kind of an effort that morning, but I was prepared for an 8 hour car ride to Alabama so I was not looking my best. That picture of us, that was that morning. I had gotten out of the shower, thrown on minimal makeup, pulled my hair back while it was still wet, put on that cap, and was wearing jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. And that "Darlin'" part?
Made me melt. Everytime. That was his nickname for me. It wasn't necessarily the word, so much as it was the way he said it. I'd give anything to have that recorded somewhere so I could hear it again. I do have three messages saved that he'd left on my answering machine about two years ago... I don't know why I saved them, but I would listen to them before I'd go to bed almost everynight that I didn't actually talk to him. From the first time we talked on the phone, I knew that I wanted that voice to be the first I heard when I woke up, and the last I heard before I went to sleep.
Monday, October 30, 2006
2 steps forward.
3 steps back.
That's what this weekend was. I'd been doing "okay", then Saturday I had a complete breakdown. We were sailing. And listening to Bob Seger. "Main Street" was playing. It hit me like a ton of bricks out of the clear blue sky.
It was like, all of a sudden, I realized he was gone. That I was never going to see him again. That I was never going to smell him again, other than the jacket that I took of his (but he had washed it recently. I wonder if he knew I was going to want it, and he didn't want it to "smell the smoke"). Or have him nuzzled up next to me in bed. Or kiss him, and have him kiss me more passionately than I have ever been kissed. Or go riding on the back roads in Oberlin sharing a six pack of Bud Light, even though he preferred Coors Light. Or feel the butterflies everytime I would pull into Oberlin, or when he would pull up outside my house.
I loved him so much. More than I ever thought possible. More than I think I will ever love anyone. We had been together about a month when my mother and I drove to Lake Charles, and I was taking her truck from there to Oberlin to stay with Nick. She asked me how things were going with us and I said, "Great. But how is it that being with someone can make me so happy, and being without that same person can make me so miserable?" I don't remember exactly what she told me, I just remember it was something I didn't want to hear and that it pissed me off. What I said held true for two and a half years. When we were together, we were happy. Genuinely happy. My mood would turn sour the closer we got to leaving one another. He would tilt my chin up with his finger, kiss me on the tip of my nose, and say everything would be okay, that we'd see each other again soon. I don't think there was a single time that I'd leave Oberlin, or that he would leave my place that I wouldn't cry. He hated seeing me cry. He would wipe away my tears and hold me tight, and sniff my hair to make me laugh. He always loved the way I smelled. I loved the way he smelled, too. Anytime I would sniff him he would get embarrassed and tell me to stop because he thought he smelled like smoke. He never did, though, which was strange because he smoked a lot. I'd give anything to smell him again.
That's what this weekend was. I'd been doing "okay", then Saturday I had a complete breakdown. We were sailing. And listening to Bob Seger. "Main Street" was playing. It hit me like a ton of bricks out of the clear blue sky.
It was like, all of a sudden, I realized he was gone. That I was never going to see him again. That I was never going to smell him again, other than the jacket that I took of his (but he had washed it recently. I wonder if he knew I was going to want it, and he didn't want it to "smell the smoke"). Or have him nuzzled up next to me in bed. Or kiss him, and have him kiss me more passionately than I have ever been kissed. Or go riding on the back roads in Oberlin sharing a six pack of Bud Light, even though he preferred Coors Light. Or feel the butterflies everytime I would pull into Oberlin, or when he would pull up outside my house.
I loved him so much. More than I ever thought possible. More than I think I will ever love anyone. We had been together about a month when my mother and I drove to Lake Charles, and I was taking her truck from there to Oberlin to stay with Nick. She asked me how things were going with us and I said, "Great. But how is it that being with someone can make me so happy, and being without that same person can make me so miserable?" I don't remember exactly what she told me, I just remember it was something I didn't want to hear and that it pissed me off. What I said held true for two and a half years. When we were together, we were happy. Genuinely happy. My mood would turn sour the closer we got to leaving one another. He would tilt my chin up with his finger, kiss me on the tip of my nose, and say everything would be okay, that we'd see each other again soon. I don't think there was a single time that I'd leave Oberlin, or that he would leave my place that I wouldn't cry. He hated seeing me cry. He would wipe away my tears and hold me tight, and sniff my hair to make me laugh. He always loved the way I smelled. I loved the way he smelled, too. Anytime I would sniff him he would get embarrassed and tell me to stop because he thought he smelled like smoke. He never did, though, which was strange because he smoked a lot. I'd give anything to smell him again.
Friday, October 27, 2006
"X" marks the spot.
Now I realize this may be morbid, but I had to know where he did it. Turns out there are three tanks, not two. And the catwalk runs across the left of all three. The ladder to get up to the catwalk is at the end of the tank at the bottom, and he did it at the end of the catwalk at the tank on the top. He used a tie down strap. You know, the kind with the ratchet on it? It was red.
I found out a little more information. Apparently, he tried carbon monoxide first. There was a tube/hose attached to his tailpipe, with something taped over it/stuffed into it to try to force the CO into the cab of his truck. I'm sure he either got frustrated because it wasn't working fast enough, or he got sick from it and couldn't stand it any longer.
Also, you know how they say that people hang themselves because it's quick since it typically breaks the person's neck? His neck wasn't broken. How long did he hang there, suffering? Did he try to get out of the rope? Krystal and I figured out that he couldn't have been more than a foot or two off the ground, so the fall probably wouldn't have hurt him. Why didn't one of the knots fail? Why didn't he use too much strap and his feet hit the ground?
I'm making a trip to Oberlin in the next couple of weeks. I'm going out to where he did it. Krystal said she's going with me, that she won't let me go alone. She said that there are several people that want to go, but most of them don't think they can just yet.. I don't know if I'd rather go alone, with Krystal, or with some of Nick's friends...
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The Guilt.
I'd have to say that the guilt has been the worst emotion I've felt through this.
I feel guilty because I am apparently the only one who knew Nick was having issues with depression. I begged him to get help, to go talk to someone, or to see his Dr and get on meds, but he wouldn't hear of it and got very angry anytime the subject came up. At one point, I told him I was going to tell his mother and he told me that if I did that he would never speak to me again. My selfish needs of keeping him in my life kept me from telling his mother, who could have possibly talked him into getting help since they lived in the same house and she saw him everyday.
I feel guilty because of the hateful things I said to him the last time we talked. I've definitely learned my lesson on that. After our last conversation, I chalked my anger up to the Lupron I was on, but can I really use that as an excuse? I know now that there is never an acceptable reason for saying such hateful things.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
My Immortal
i'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all of my childish fears
and if you have to leave
i wish that you would just leave
because your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone
these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase
when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me
you used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind
your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase
when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me
i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
and though you're still with me
i've been alone all along
by Evanescence
suppressed by all of my childish fears
and if you have to leave
i wish that you would just leave
because your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone
these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase
when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me
you used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind
your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase
when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears
and i've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me
i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
and though you're still with me
i've been alone all along
by Evanescence
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