Dear Kevin,
Friday afternoon when I changed my bike tire all by myself the first thing I wanted to do was tell you that I did it, because I thought you would be proud of me. You always used to get frustrated with me when I made you do it because it's so easy and I should have learned. But I never needed to, I always had you to help.
Yesterday morning I awoke to the news that the previous night, around 6pm, you were found dead in the basement of your friend's house. I then spent the entire day either crying hysterically or completely numb. I'm not sure what's better because they both seem pretty shitty.
This isn't something that should surprised me, you had your problems and you never seemed to get a hold on them but it looks like they finally got you. You knew you wouldn't live until you were old, used to tell me all the time, but I tried to pretend like you didn't mean it.
I keep trying to imagine a life where I can't text you stupid things that Lola does, or tell you something about baseball, or ask you a question, or hear your laugh or tell you that you crazy lady. I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'll never receive a text from you saying that you os'd your popcorn, or that the cubs suck, or that a certain band is awesome and I should check them out. I'll never hear you tell me to give Lola a big kiss from poppa ever again, and you'll never be able to give her a big kiss again.
And it all breaks my heart, but it more than breaks my heart. It leaves a hole where you lived in heart, not where memories of you/us lived but where you lived and stayed and never left. Those memories take up a large part, but you took up the largest.
I threw you a "wake" at Stella's last night and it was amazing. So many people came out to, people that I couldn't invite because I didn't know and people that I did and everyone just hugged each other. Heather even hugged me, which I wasn't so into but you would have thought was funny. Nickey and I even had some moments and I feel like maybe we'll have some more. You would have liked that so much. Sue and Rozi showed up, all of the bike people. Some got pretty rowdy (Winkelman, Jove, Johnny were the most drunk of the bunch) but some were very somber. James was inconsolable and Nate wasn't too much better. At some point I ran out of things I could say to them.
Everyone kept telling me they were sorry for MY loss, which I wish they hadn't. It was our loss. Everyone in that bar lost you, even Stella who was pretty upset. She said 'so young. i keep asking about him. Where Kevin? Where Bobby" in her adorable Polish accent.
People kept telling me how much you loved me, that you loved me more than anything in world, that you adored me, and I know they were trying to help but I already knew all of that. And the truth of the matter is I loved you like that too. People thanked for for everything I did for you, and told me how appreciative they were, that when you started dating me they thought that 'this is it. She's going to save him.' But I couldn't save you. I tried to fucking hard to save you for so long, but you didn't want to be saved. You wanted to live your life the way you wanted to live it and you wanted me to be ok with that and let you. But I couldn't let you because I couldn't imagine this very moment when I'm sitting alone in my living sobbing because you don't exist anymore. More than one person said that when we broke up they thought that that was it, that it was all going to go downhill. I was your stability, and sadly it looks like they were right. I never wanted that. I just couldn't fight with the demons anymore, they were winning and it was killing me.
Brent told me that your spirit still exists, that you had such a great spirit that there's no way it's gone. I told him that it wasn't good enough. That I don't want your spirit. Your spirit will never tell me that my thighs are getting fat just to be an ass. Your spirit will never tell me that the cubs suck and when I tell you some random baseball fact or about yelling at someone on bike bike "that's my girl." I'm not your spirit's girl. Lola isn't your spirit's dog. fuck that.
I told Lynn that I don't know how to exist in a world where you don't. That I don't know how to wake up every day and know that you aren't there. For a second this morning, just like less than a second this morning, I didn't think about it. But then I tried to open my eyes, which are basically puffed shut, and it hit me all over again and probably will all day, all week, all year, all life.
I wish I could have saved you.
I wish you could have saved yourself.
I will always love you, you bastard.
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