Without Asking; He Left

3 years ago my best friend and a true soul mate took his life. It was one of those "gone too soon" events that made an indelible mark in my heart that will never go away. I'm certain of it. In the days leading up to the anniversary of his passing this year, I found a feather a day and a bee in my home on the actual date he died. It was flying around bumping into the same light as always - and me utterly perplexed at how it got into my kitchen. Again. Meaning this happens frequently enough for me to notice that it's not a coincidence.

Yep, they've been a pattern, these bees. And, mind you, my doors and windows are not open because I have indoor controlled temperature and I've never ever had a bee in my home prior.

Does it mean anything? I'd like to think so. I'm one of those people who have had consistent, unexplained events happen in my life that both surprise me and make me happy. I also read the book Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe by Laura Lynne Jackson when a cllient sent me the book out of the blue (and without knowing why) a year after my friend passed. I never spoke about it so how would she know? She wouldn't. And that's the magic of it all.

The bees started to show up out of the blue immediately following my friend's passing. While he was alive, whenever we would come across a beee, he would scream like a girl. (mostly to act funny and get me to react.) I used to joke that he would return as a bee after he passed and he would "har har har, so funny." me with a smirk back, followed by a "Yea, watch out, I'm going to come and disturb you at night!" 🐝 (He knew I was a night owl.)

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His passing wasn't random, I don't think. After all, he decided to do it and go through with it. A tough thing to come to terms with if you don't know what it's like to suffer from constant, pressure and pain in your brain. He shared so much with me over the course of many years - nearly a decade - and I feel like I am still getting to know him better and better after he is gone.

Once a truly brilliant creator and artist who had a way with people, he also battled inner conflicts that would push his own freedom off to the side or stuff it into boxes that he called "compartmentalized order." He felt the need to compartmentalized people, projects, places, and plenty of other things so that he could "deal with it" and "survive another day."

But "what's it all for?", I once asked. I mean, "are you happy living this way?" He laughed and said, "It's what I'm good at."

Looking back at his brilliance, i used to think it was his degrees, languages spoken, global presense, and mostly his way with others. But then as I got to know him, he showed me another side to his facade. The inner mind map of memories - good, bad, and forgotten. The web of stories that he told himself and others just so he could fit in, placate, or connect. There were so many things to keep track of. I could see how, at times, he felt like it could break him into a multitude of pieces.

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The day he took his life, I received a call from him. We had plans for the weekend to meet up with a friend to have dinner and talk. He had a lot weighing on him. Pressure from the usual sources. A talk he had with his therapist. And a fed-up-ness that he had with all the BS he "wished he didn't have to deal with."

When someone is "over-filled" for decades, it's hard to let go of what "gets you every time." I am a believer in therapy and other sources of healing modalities, but patterns and habits die hard. His therapist described it as a very strong rubber band. One that is triggered easily because o the consistent presence in ones life.

I undestood in one sense. My ex triggers me at times. Certain smells of food triggers me to want to eat things that are not good for me. Certain dear friends trigger me to act a certain way even if I've outgrown that version of me. My mother triggers me sometimes and I revert back to being a little girl who is confused or can't make up my mind on my own. Yes, I get it.

But to be so triggered that you feel your life is not worth living? That's so vast for me. I don't know where to put that information. It does not resonate.

Yet, I listened to my best friend talk things out for years. Seeing all the paths to the roots where a significant incident happened, where a decision was made, where the behaviors that followed became patterns that snowballed into unhealthy choices, etc. Then there was the one time that he called me right before attempting and I followed my intuition which led me to saving his life.

Why didn't he call me this time? Well, actually he DID call me but we were discussing when I'd see him in a few hours. He was going to hang out with friends, I was going to hang out with other friends. We were going to meet up after. That meet up after never happened. Neither did the meet up with friends.

It was unexpected. But not surprising. But beyond startling. Because this was a pattern of his over many years. But something he actively worked on to find a way IN to life. He was mostly high functioning and totally "fine" but now and then big emotions would overwhelm him, usually when there was pressure from the same outside sources. It was always difficult to observe and hear about the very influences around him who knew his weaknesses, yet would push things on to him that were not his to bear. According to a long time psychiatrist he was seeing, they were the source of the toxicity and should be avoided in order to live a more peaceful and healthy life. It was easier said than done.

This is not about blaming. But about giving context.

Because in this particular case, it rattled a cage open and left a vulnerable human exposed to a part of him that he was trying to strengthen.

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Art heals. It really does. My friend and I would doodle and paint a lot. It helped to put his big emotions into a form that could be understood just by the being in the room with the art. It conveyed different things on different days. It conveyed more than words. It conveyed knowing.

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Fast forward to the year he died.

The shock and awe of someone I loved so much taking his life is not somethig I can yet put into words. I can express my feelings, thoughts, and emotions from a frontal lobe stand point. Even from an intuitive position. But the very act of what happened - it bears no words.

When I got the call that something was up, my brain literally went down a multitude of paths. Please just let it be that a health problem occured and all will be okay. When I went to the hospital and was delivered the news, I feel like I blacked out. I was there, in the room, but I don't remember the doctor, the nurse who was with her (I think it was a woman), and I definitely don't remember what they said exactly.

I begged that they let me in to see for myself and when I got there, I was in disbelief. I begged them to try again to revive him. His body was still warm. He didn't look dead. He looked like he was sleeping. He wasn't stiff. He was still very much "present".

There is something about losing someone in this way. For me, I bargained with God, I reached for every bit of positivity that I could muster to see if it would work some miracle and he would open his eyes. Nothing worked. What seemed like forever, was probably minutes passing. My brain still spiraling like Alice falling down the hole of the tree but there was no end in sight.

- - - - -

I haven't given much thought to how many days it actually took me to grasp my new reality. Maybe to this day, I haven't really gotten there yet. It's quite tricky, this kind of loss. But I remember the vision I had of a tree. Growing out of the ground, from the root of love, and all the leaves coming to life showcasing mini videos of all the life that was lived in moments. How they come, then go, and how new ones grow.

I started to draw.

And then I started to post them to TikTok. I numbered the days with the intent of doing it for a year. "Put it on the list like brushing your teeth", I heard Josepth McClendon III say. He was talking about new habits. I was thinking "If you do ONE thing a day for a year, this will help you out of this dark hole you can't see out of." I committed and gave myself grace when I really couldn't do it. I got to 365 days of doing it, but it took a longer than a year to complete.

The reason I name it The Joy Love Project was because I believe in energy and I wanted this "project" to carry high vibes. Positive vibes. Even if what my friend did was the near polar opposite of that. I needed to find the meaning in this. I wanted to get to the heart of the matter like I do in everything else.

It seemed impossible. But I've done work like this long enough to know that if I did it, the light would find me.

I don't know where it's all going to go but I do know that it's reaching me deeply. Touching my soul where it counts. Giving a voice to something that had no words. And making something meaningful, hopeful, and deeply personal out of something unimaginable that I did not want to see or remember.

Grief is a wise and kind (and TOUGH) teacher, I keep saying. Because it is. The layers are infinite. The lessons only transformational if we choose to embrace them as such.

Drawing helps. A lot. Drawing the same thing over and over, somehow gives me an anchor action that somehow frees me from any kind of bondage to the pain that I try to hide or don't want to feel. Somehow the act of drawing...with intention...helps me to release immense amounts of tears and smiles, gives me a real life revelation that deep excruciating pain and overwhelming unconditional love can exist in one significant moment in my life. And from there, more joy, love, and gratitude grows.

The trees are like planting an endless orchard of hope, connection, value, growth and expansion, and serve (at least for now) as a beautiful recollection of all the feelings that I shared with one of the most beautiful human beings to ever grace my life.

I see it helping others in that way too.

What started out as a way to cope, has turned into a way to connect. Not only with those who know this pain, but with the ones we lost too.

The joy + love that I know is because of my best friend. And I am grateful for that. All of it. 🤍

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The Joy Love Project Healing Journal is a practice of expressing joy + love through art, drawing, and story-telling. Because love doesn't end when life does. All stories are from the writer's perspective and experiences and those generously offered by others.