There is a man I used to know.
I met him when I was 20, at the age when I was still very
young and impressionable. He was considerably older, and we were friends for 15
years. The friendship was a rocky and volatile one, and there were long
stretches of time where we didn’t speak or see each other, sometimes even for a
year or two. He was not good for me, but somehow I kept going back, perhaps
because I didn’t want to lose a friendship that had somehow lasted, despite the
quarrels and the rows.
Then in 2014 I embarked on a soul-searching journey, and came
back with renewed faith in myself, that no one had the right to treat me badly or
put me down; I have all the right to walk away if someone made me feel that
way. So, I walked away.
I blocked his number, but never quite deleted it. There was
no point, I had memorised his number, and it is still etched in my mind even
now, after all these years. I’m not quite sure why.
Ten years went by. Many times I had urges to contact him,
but managed to control myself, reminding myself why I left in the first place.
Recently I just wondered how he was doing, and was seriously
contemplating reaching out. Instead, I googled his name to see what he was up
to. To my shock and disbelief, I found his obituary. He had passed away in 2021. I
never knew. I never said goodbye.
I didn’t know how to feel. I still don’t. I can’t help
wondering if he had tried to contact me, and failed, time and time again.
And now, I still have his number on my phone, still blocked,
even as he is no more. I can’t find it in my heart to delete it, it would be
like deleting a part of my history.
I think I need to forgive him for all the bad, and remember
him for all the good. And one day when I am ready, to delete his number from my
phone, and perhaps from my mind, even as his memory lives on.
