About a week ago I took ‘spring cleaning’ to a new level. I cleared my phone from all the long forgotten contacts, messages, pictures. In short, I deleted the numbers of all the boys I had had any contact with in the past few years.
All but one. His number is safely tucked in under the ‘Archived’ folder. I simply don’t have the heart to delete his number. I made my peace with the fact that we’d never be together, but he’s good to have around. Besides, he’s gives me the ‘man’s point of view’, as he says.
‘I give the best advice’, – he tells me.
I highly doubt that. However, what I had tried up to now has not worked. Maybe he does have something smart to say.
‘Go on then’, – I give in.
‘Date older men. 15 years older’.
Eeew! No offense to anybody who’s 15 years older than me. But that old? Gosh.
Then I vaguely remember him showing me a picture of his friend, supposedly 59. The guy looked really good!
‘I’ll keep that in mind’, – I answer.
Then I ask him to send me that picture of his friend again. And yup, the guy must be the only 59 year old looking this good. Damn.
Back to the phone business, though.
It feels good having no crap on my phone. Just the numbers of those who I genuinely care about and want to keep in touch with. At the very bottom of those, the number without the picture and the name, with the sweetest last message, remains:
I love you both with all my heart.
Beno, Beno, Beno… I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately. At the end of April it will be 4 years since he’s been gone. I miss him. I miss the funny, loving moments that we shared, I miss the easiness with which we fell into each other’s lives. I never once stopped to think whether he was the one for me, whether I wanted to live with him. It was ‘yes’ and ‘yes’, no thinking.
I’ve taken risks in my life. One after another. I’ve taken chances, without thinking. I’ve always followed my heart.
And sometimes I’ve acted unreasonably, consciously knowing that.
Call me old fashioned or ‘still reads paper books’ type of person. I am and I do and I love it. So what if I am slightly behind in terms of social media and don’t have an IG account. That is, did not have it until 2 weeks ago.
On the very same day I opened it, I came across Beno’s account. Yeah yeah, I knew he’d had it, but during our time together I could not have cared less about IG.
2 weeks ago, almost 4 years after he’s been gone, I clicked on ‘follow’ him. Why??? Of course I can’t follow him, of course there is nobody behind this and many other of his online accounts. But I had to. I simply had to click on the ‘follow’ button. No logic, just the heart.
Who knows where he is now.
I do think sometimes how there are millions of guesses and hundreds of theories about what happens when you die. What do you become? Can you see and hear? How do you look like? Do you have the ability to think and understand?
Nobody knows anything, because when you’re gone, you’re gone.