Around this time last year, I got a call from my cousin. I couldn’t pick up at that moment, so I listened to the voicemail when I was free. “Hey, just calling to see if you heard the news. You were the first person I thought of when I found out about [insert my ex’s name here]. I’m sorry,” he said. Of course, my mind didn’t properly process what I had just heard. For some reason, I associated it with a family member or even a friend, but not my ex.
My initial reaction…pure shock.
After that voicemail, I checked my socials and sure enough, the news had begun circulating. I then got another text from a mutual friend of ours, similar to my cousin’s voicemail. “Hey, are you okay? You were the first person I thought of when I heard the news.” I simply said, “Thank you, and yes, I’m okay. It’s just a sad situation.”
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In full transparency, my ex and I hadn't spoken in at least three years prior to his passing, and our relationship had ended several years before that. Though we no longer had direct ties or regular communication, I was always connected to him in some way: through our close mutual friends, his family members that I still occasionally spoke to on social media, or the fact that the health issues he battled and succumbed to started when we dated.
To give a little of the backstory, he battled a chronic illness of sorts. He was very transparent about his journey with his own social media following, and would often reference a medical incident that he says was the beginning of it all.
That incident happened in my apartment living room, mere hours after we spent time with our families for the holidays. It was traumatic, to say the least. He wound up in the hospital for days, and doctors suggested that if he wanted a better quality of life, he would need to undergo a major surgery in the coming weeks.
That surgery date came so quickly. Although we had an argument just days before, I was by his side bright and early that morning. Standing with his mother, I kissed him and told him I loved him before they wheeled him back.
To say I was scared, was an understatement. It was an all-day procedure, one that we would learn he flat-lined at least three times. But prayer works, and later that day, I was there as he opened his eyes for the first time.
Fast-forward to somewhere between the surgery and him being moved from the ICU into general recovery, I found out some “not-so-good news” about him and our relationship, and I chose to end things when he was healthy enough to talk.
There wasn’t a heated argument—in fact, he even said I was too calm—but I made it clear that this was the end of us, although I was here if he needed me as he recovered.
Through lots of therapy, I was able to forgive him. We developed a casual friendship in the coming years and even ended up at the weddings of our mutual friends and other events together. Despite our romantic relationship being a total fail, there was never any hatred between us.
We would check in every few years with a joke or two and then go about our lives until the next check-in. So, when I heard that he was no longer physically here, I didn’t know how or what to feel—and I still don’t.
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On one hand, I felt like I wasn’t allowed to grieve his passing because our last check-in happened over three years prior. So, in a sense, I felt like there wasn’t any reason for me to be sad over someone I barely spoke to. Not to mention the way our relationship ended. On the other hand, after speaking with one of his family members and learning what he had endured health-wise those last few years, it broke my heart.
It took me back to that day in my living room, the fear I saw on his face, as well as the times when he opened up to me about how he just wanted to get through his medical issues and live a normal life. I knew how much he just wanted to live and how hard he fought.
Though I intended to be there to show support to his family, I couldn’t pull myself to attend his memorial service because, once again, I didn’t think I had the same right as those he actually talked to regularly (in addition to the fact that I didn’t know his dating status at the time and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries).
I found myself going back through our very brief DM history in the days and weeks after, hoping it would bring me some closure. But it only left me with regret for not checking in more or even responding to the last message he sent me— “What’s up, player?” (His way of breaking the ice when we spoke.)
We’re officially at the one-year mark since his passing, and for some reason, the emotions have begun stirring up all over again. My mind is once again doing this series of mental gymnastics, telling me, ‘Girl, let it go’. But also, ‘it’s okay to grieve the loss’. Maybe it's the seasons changing, or maybe it's a genuine sadness from not being able to say goodbye.
Either way, it’s definitely a situation and a period in my life that will forever be etched in my brain. Because at the end of the day, he was someone I once loved and the heart never forgets—even if it didn’t have a fairytale ending.
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Feature image by Jackyenjoyphotography/ Getty Images
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