Love and Loss in the City: Growing Up in NYC and Losing My High School Sweetheart to Addiction

I wish we had grown up with the same advice. Both of us would have survived high school in NYC, except only one of us made it out. I stopped enjoying the things that were happening around me. I felt stuck in NYC. How could the most amazing city in the US make you feel stuck? I remember the last night as if it were yesterday. No one knows what to say when your drug-addict high school sweetheart dies. My mom was always there, but she wasn’t. His mom was dealing with grief and trying to figure out how to raise her nephew after her sister was shot in front of them. Our parents were busy, so they didn’t notice much but we were always together. When my mom was so in her head she didn't notice I wasn't home for three weeks, He did. He was the only person to ask how my day was. I still don’t understand how I didn't know. His cousin said he would have told me or shown more signs if he wanted me to know. I don't know what to believe.

I don’t blame him. If I were in his shoes, I’d likely do the same. Trying to numb the pain in any way possible seemed like the only option. I often wonder if things could have been different for him, with a little more hope or guidance, if he had known there was another way out. It was so strange to me that he was here and now it's over. How the years just keep on passing and he’s just gone. I swear I still see him in the sunrise.

Perhaps a different story could have been written for both of us. A better one. One where we both weren’t so hard on ourselves. But life doesn’t offer rewrites or second drafts. We can’t go back and erase the moments we wish had been different. So I pretend that part of me doesn’t exist. I don’t talk about him very much. The only people I knew about him were those I knew when he was alive. That doesn’t mean I don’t think about him every single day because I do. I still love him. I knew that when he died, I had to change everything about me to survive.

I left and never looked back. I had to carry on. I didn’t think I had much of a choice. I remember him saying after his aunt's death that sometimes what’s meant to break you just makes you brave. I think about that a lot now. I always assumed he’d pull through but sometimes you are wrong. I should have known this wasn’t going to end the way I thought. He was my best friend and I think that had to be one of the worst parts. He was 17 and living on promises he never got. He always assumed he’d pull through but sometimes you get stuck. His mother gave me the last notebook he had ever written in. It’s the only thing of his I kept. I read it daily. I read it and I forget he’s gone. One of the last things he wrote really broke me. He thought that by him leaving he was saving me. I don’t know what he was trying to save me from. If one thing had been different would everything be different today. Would he still be here? No one can answer my questions.I think that is what hurts the most. I had to carry on. I didn’t have a choice. We loved and we lost here but it is still home.