Goodbye, Pizza Guy.
We last exchanged messages on Facebook on May 13th. We’d kept in touch over the years, the years after we broke up in 2006. Our relationship had had an odd beginning, and rumbled along, in fits and starts, until we finally wound up spending almost 3 pretty good years together. Our relationship ended when it was obvious he was not looking to have me in his life for the long-haul, and I longed for that with him.
But I got over that, and I got sober. He got married, got sober, had a little boy. We kept in touch, and I watched from afar as he got married, had a kid. Settled down to a responsible adult life. Exchanged messages on FaceBook.
We had made plans to try to have lunch or coffee while I was back in the Bay Area. I went to his FaceBook page  this morning to send him a note and saw a series of posts that went from odd to cryptic to shocking to eviscerating.
He is dead. Heart attack. He died on May 18th. Five days after our last exchange on FaceBook.
I haven’t ever lost a friend. I haven’t ever lost someone I loved. I don’t even have words for this, and I feel like somehow I’m not entitled to feel as though this is my strange loss, too.
Many of you knew about him because of all of the stories I told about our crazy escapades…and you should know? He enjoyed listening to the recordings  my tales of “The Pizza Guy” as much as I loved telling them.  He even corrected me on details of one story, which lead to a friendly argument, and both of us laughing about the craziness of the early days of our relationship.
What can I say? I loved him dearly. I am furious I will never see him again. I am angry at myself for not making time sooner. I am horrified that his wife lost her life-partner, his son lost his Father.
Hey, man…I wish I had been able to see you again. I am uncharacteristically without my usual erudition.  I’m feeling sick and sad. I am glad I loved you and that you loved me, and that you were in my life. I am happy we traveled together, cooked together, fought and fucked and laughed our asses off, and that you brought so much joy to my life.
Fuck this shit. For real.
I am so so sorry, Mo. So sorry.
I’d never lost anyone close until my Granny died a summer or two ago. You just never know how much it’s gonna rock your world until it does. I’m so sorry, honey. ((hugs))
These kinds of deaths are so shocking — it feels like one day they’re fine, and then — they’re gone, like someone flipped a light switch. It’s particularly shocking when it happens to someone young. I often tell people — even people in their thirties: Never ignore chest pain. If nothing is wrong, the worst that will happen to you is that you’ll catch up on the doings of Brangelina from old issues of People in the waiting room. Nobody — and I mean nobody — will make fun of you if it turns out to be a false alarm, because all the medical professionals know how many first heart attacks are fatal and are happy — happy! — to see people pay attention to symptoms early.
I’m really sorry, Mo. This is so sad. Sometimes I just want to dope-slap God.
I love you. If I ran the world, I would say “I’m Sorry”. Singing for you today…pick a song-If I know it, call me…I’ll sing it in your ear. I love you and I wish I could make sense of it for you… Ow, like a motherfucker…
Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m glad I got to hear about him last night. You spoke of him with so much love and respect.
You have my condolences, Mo.
My sincere condolences, Mollena. I’ve been thinking about you, because something similar happened in my life – a beloved ex died quite suddenly, and I found out at random on the internet, and I didn’t know what to feel, or whether I had any business mourning or contacting his family or what. It sucked in a way that loss doesn’t usually suck, and I muddled through, and I still think about him and miss him and wish we could have been better friends. So: yeah, this is a weird emotional neighborhood. Best wishes and good thoughts to you on finding your way through.
[…] The new thing at my freelance writing gig is for us to be assigned “themes” around which we have to base our columns. Sometimes I’m left baffled, and this week wasn’t any better. “Hands” was the assignment, and I’d entirely forgotten about pretty much everything in the wake of the passing of my friend and former boyfriend. […]