subject line: i didn't call

 

the abyss of grief

The day you died, I didn’t call. When they told me you were a no call, no show for work, I brushed it off and said you’d surely be there soon. As time passed, I became more and more anxious. I dialed your number, but I did not call. I figured you had just overslept.

Now, everyday I am haunted with the fact that I didn’t call. Every single day I wonder if my call would have made a difference, or if you would have ignored it like everyone else’s pleas for you to tell them you were safe. Every day I wonder if I could have changed the course of your future. I remember that day, when I told my coworkers I was going to go kick down your door but they assured me you had just overslept.

I didn’t call. And you shot yourself at 1 pm after hours of us looking for you. After countless phone calls from concerned coworkers. But after all, I never called. I never reached out. I missed my chance to show you I cared. I missed the opportunity to see if maybe I was different.

I miss you, and you’re gone. All because I didn’t fucking call.