julierichmond

{I didn’t know what to title this; the man who I am speaking about was one of the first men I fell in love with; knee knocking, short of breath, the- I can’t believe that guy wearing the blazer, the fisherman’s cap, just tilted, and the gloves without fingers was walking towards me AND smiling- kind of love. But that was a million years ago, and our relationship as friends lasted about twenty five years longer than our entanglement.}

On Valentine’s morning, my husband drove to the airport; I was flying home to NJ to attend the funeral of someone I love.

Being in love while being on drugs makes for sad stories, TJ and I were not a couple you’d choose as godparents. Our relationship didn’t start that way, I have as many sweet memories as funny ones, as ones of heartbreak. I will save these for another time.

About thirty years ago, he got clean, joined the program, had a baby girl, who is now a young woman named Molly.

I called him when I was scared of a path my son Colin was on; I called him when I was struggling in my marriage. He called me to tell stories about his daughter and brag about his dogs. He called me when his ex, the mother of his daughter, tried to steal custody. We leaned on each other, laughed a lot, and always picked up each other’s calls. After the kids grew up, we’d swap dog photos and talk about upcoming concerts or shows. He told me what bands to listen to, told me all about the bands I was already listening to, he knew music, TJ knew music.

The week before he died, he texted that he’d been put on the transplant list.

I got word on Facebook messenger, his new lung didn’t get there in time. I texted him just after, wrote the words “say it isn’t so.”

The memorial service was held a month later, on February 15th. The church was standing room only. Friends and family got up and told stories, it lasted over an hour.

I was a little disappointed to discover I wasn’t the only one he ended calls with “I love you, bye.”

Afterwards, I saw his sisters and hugged them long enough we made up for lost time. I met his daughter, and wished I had the words she needed to stop her crying, but no one did, or will, for a while, I’d imagine.

When everything was over, I spent time with Norma, his wife. We went outside and compared notes about this man that I loved and the man she still loves, and I put my number in her phone. She stole my heart when she told me how he’d always loved me and he’d always felt as if he’d never truly made amends for the ugly moments towards the end.

He’d apologized a thousand times, over the years. On the phone. Over text.

And he never needed to apologize for a damned thing. We were two kids who loved each other who didn’t have a clue how to be in the world and were grabbing on to anything and everyone for help. He felt the pull of the pipe at the end, I drank vodka gimlets and Jamieson’s until I’d pass out.

He had nothing to apologize for. I am a better, stronger, woman for knowing him, and lord knows, I have much better taste in music than most, mostly, but not entirely, thanks to him. (He would like that.)

I will miss him all my days, and take this opportunity to say the last words this time-

“I love you, TJ, bye.”