Dear Nick,
Three days ago, you watched a movie for 30 minutes. Yesterday you and your dad took a walk up a hill to the end of your street. Today you took a shower and shaved. And you talked to me.
I wasn’t expecting to get to talk to you, so when your dad said that you were getting out of the shower and that he’d hand over the phone, my heart raced! I couldn’t understand what you were saying, so I told you not to worry, I understood what you meant. I told you over and over again how much I love you, that I’m so proud of you, and that you are so damn tough.
It was hard to tell, but I think you said that you love me, too.
Love,
Holly
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Dear Nick,
I miss you. I always will. You aren’t even gone yet, but I feel like I’ve been mourning for months now.
This is lame, I know, but I’m too burned out right now to write a proper letter. Instead, I’m copying part of a gchat I had this morning with Caitlin. (Remember Caitlin? She has that really sweet boxer who was so excited to meet you.)
Me: Nick and I were very important to each other. He helped me become a better person, to see that I am beautiful, to build my self confidence
and help me learn that I deserve to be happy
and I helped him, too
I'm trying to not focus on what could have been, that's too hard
I have to keep reminding myself that we served a purpose, and I will forever be grateful
but, to be honest, the thought of ever being that close to someone again, to find someone to have that connection with, well, I doubt it will ever happen
and I don't know if I want it to
Caitlin: you will find it
and you will feel Nick there, pushing you forward
me: I'm not even ready to think about that yet
even entertain the thought of it
:(
Caitlin: and that's fine
bc you can be complete with out a partner
but you will know it when the time comes
me: I know I can be complete... that's something that Nick helped me see about myself
Caitlin: but you don't even need to think about that right now
that is why he is so special
I’m going to bed now, dear Nick. I love you so much.
Love,
Holly
I miss you. I always will. You aren’t even gone yet, but I feel like I’ve been mourning for months now.
This is lame, I know, but I’m too burned out right now to write a proper letter. Instead, I’m copying part of a gchat I had this morning with Caitlin. (Remember Caitlin? She has that really sweet boxer who was so excited to meet you.)
Me: Nick and I were very important to each other. He helped me become a better person, to see that I am beautiful, to build my self confidence
and help me learn that I deserve to be happy
and I helped him, too
I'm trying to not focus on what could have been, that's too hard
I have to keep reminding myself that we served a purpose, and I will forever be grateful
but, to be honest, the thought of ever being that close to someone again, to find someone to have that connection with, well, I doubt it will ever happen
and I don't know if I want it to
Caitlin: you will find it
and you will feel Nick there, pushing you forward
me: I'm not even ready to think about that yet
even entertain the thought of it
:(
Caitlin: and that's fine
bc you can be complete with out a partner
but you will know it when the time comes
me: I know I can be complete... that's something that Nick helped me see about myself
Caitlin: but you don't even need to think about that right now
that is why he is so special
I’m going to bed now, dear Nick. I love you so much.
Love,
Holly
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Dear Nick,
I bought a dress today to wear at your funeral. I’m trying to get ready so when I get the call, I can just pick up my suitcase, drop off the dog, and be on my way. It isn’t right. I shouldn’t have to buy a dress to wear at the funeral of greatest guy I know. It’s just not right.
Did you ever notice that cute shop down Euclid, across from that little deli? They had this darling, strapless white summer dress. I had joked with Emily that it was a perfect summer wedding dress, and that I should buy it to hold on to. She asked who I'd be marrying, Chris or you, and I said you. I never bought that dress. I should have. Instead, I bought the dress I'll wear at your funeral.
Love,
Holly
I bought a dress today to wear at your funeral. I’m trying to get ready so when I get the call, I can just pick up my suitcase, drop off the dog, and be on my way. It isn’t right. I shouldn’t have to buy a dress to wear at the funeral of greatest guy I know. It’s just not right.
Did you ever notice that cute shop down Euclid, across from that little deli? They had this darling, strapless white summer dress. I had joked with Emily that it was a perfect summer wedding dress, and that I should buy it to hold on to. She asked who I'd be marrying, Chris or you, and I said you. I never bought that dress. I should have. Instead, I bought the dress I'll wear at your funeral.
Love,
Holly
letter to Ruth
Hi Ruth,
I really enjoyed talking with you this morning; I only wish the circumstances had been different. I would have been honored to have been your daughter-in-law and given you and Al beautiful little grand babies ☺ Not to brag, but I think Nick and I would have had some very cute and intelligent kids!
My heart hurt this morning to hear the sadness and pain in your voice. Oh Ruth, Nick loved you so, so much. He always talked about how you, Al, and Laura were the most important people n his life. I can’t even imagine the pain you’re experiencing, but if it’s any consolation, know that you did a fantastic job raising the most wonderful man. Nick’s shining personality and love speak volumes about you and Al, and you should be so very proud.
Last week after talking to you, I was a mess. So much so, that my mom came from Arizona for five days to be with me. My reason for falling apart was this: Nick was everything I ever wanted in a man. He’s incredibly kind, honest, intelligent, and just amazing. I mourned what could have been. I always thought in my heart that he had to get better; he’s said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made him reevaluate his priorities and take a good look at the friends in his life. I thought he’d get better because he’d been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that would bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that a brilliant student in medicine who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. But I can’t use this logic now, and that tears me up. So I hold on to the memories of the times we spent together, and will hold those forever in my heart.
I’m looking back in my journal, and one event jumps out in particular. It was April 3, and Nick and I were both very grumpy, but decided that we should hang out and try to cheer each other. After about an hour of trying to figure out what to do, we decided that the first order of business would be to get caffeine. We went to the new Starbucks on Euclid, ordered our drinks, and sat down. Not five minutes later, a very drunk man in a fairly nice business suit sat in the armchair next to our table. He started to ask us all sorts of bazaar questions, and it was apparent that this man was in the middle of some great personal trauma. He leaned in real close—I could smell the alcohol on his breath—and he asked Nick, “Do you love your wife enough to let her go?” Nick looked across the table and replied, “Yes, I do.” To tell you the truth, I didn’t get it at the time. I saw the whole situation as one where we were trying to make a very sad man feel a little better about his life. Did Nick mean anything by his answer? I don’t know. But thinking about it now, I realize, wow, this was such a Nick answer! He loves his friends and family so much; he never wanted to be a burden to anyone and always wanted to step up to take care of others. He would want us to go on, remember him, and cherish the life he lived with such passion. So I will remember that night, the way he looked across the table, how he grabbed my hand as we ran across Lindell in the rain, and how the evening ended as so many of our evenings did. This was our usual, bi-weekly evening: It would be cold in Nick’s apartment, so after I sat on the couch, he’d throw the grey fleece blanket on me. We’d sit on the couch, and he’d be restless for a while, trying to get comfortable, the whole time asking me what I want to watch. We’d decide on a movie, or an SNL episode (the one with Feist and Brian Williams being a favorite), or an animated television show. I’d sit somewhat sideways, with my toes tucked into the crack of the sofa cushions, the tops of my feet against his hip and the side of his thigh. If I make a comment during the show, he’d stop the program, and have me repeat what I said before responding. Sometimes I have to repeat myself again. Then he’d rewind the show to where we were before I started talking. Sometimes he’d look over at me. Sometimes I’d steal a glance at him. I loved his loud laugh. He’d look at me when I giggled. His arm would drape across the back of the couch, and he’d lean slightly toward me. Sometimes I would start to fall asleep, but when he laughed, I’d wake up and feel happy. I was always happy when we were together.
I refuse to say bye to Nick. I flat out refuse. And here’s my reasoning. Anyone who met Nick, knew Nick, loved Nick, knows that he is an amazing man. His smile, laugh, silly dances, and love will live in our hearts. We have these special memories that we hold dear to us, creating this common bond. So Nick won't leave; he’s in you, and me, and the bond we share as people who love him so much. So I refuse to say bye to him. Instead, I choose to say, “I love you.” I love Nick, and I love all of you, the family that was his everything, because we all hold a piece of Nick within our hearts.
Love,
Holly
I really enjoyed talking with you this morning; I only wish the circumstances had been different. I would have been honored to have been your daughter-in-law and given you and Al beautiful little grand babies ☺ Not to brag, but I think Nick and I would have had some very cute and intelligent kids!
My heart hurt this morning to hear the sadness and pain in your voice. Oh Ruth, Nick loved you so, so much. He always talked about how you, Al, and Laura were the most important people n his life. I can’t even imagine the pain you’re experiencing, but if it’s any consolation, know that you did a fantastic job raising the most wonderful man. Nick’s shining personality and love speak volumes about you and Al, and you should be so very proud.
Last week after talking to you, I was a mess. So much so, that my mom came from Arizona for five days to be with me. My reason for falling apart was this: Nick was everything I ever wanted in a man. He’s incredibly kind, honest, intelligent, and just amazing. I mourned what could have been. I always thought in my heart that he had to get better; he’s said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made him reevaluate his priorities and take a good look at the friends in his life. I thought he’d get better because he’d been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that would bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that a brilliant student in medicine who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. But I can’t use this logic now, and that tears me up. So I hold on to the memories of the times we spent together, and will hold those forever in my heart.
I’m looking back in my journal, and one event jumps out in particular. It was April 3, and Nick and I were both very grumpy, but decided that we should hang out and try to cheer each other. After about an hour of trying to figure out what to do, we decided that the first order of business would be to get caffeine. We went to the new Starbucks on Euclid, ordered our drinks, and sat down. Not five minutes later, a very drunk man in a fairly nice business suit sat in the armchair next to our table. He started to ask us all sorts of bazaar questions, and it was apparent that this man was in the middle of some great personal trauma. He leaned in real close—I could smell the alcohol on his breath—and he asked Nick, “Do you love your wife enough to let her go?” Nick looked across the table and replied, “Yes, I do.” To tell you the truth, I didn’t get it at the time. I saw the whole situation as one where we were trying to make a very sad man feel a little better about his life. Did Nick mean anything by his answer? I don’t know. But thinking about it now, I realize, wow, this was such a Nick answer! He loves his friends and family so much; he never wanted to be a burden to anyone and always wanted to step up to take care of others. He would want us to go on, remember him, and cherish the life he lived with such passion. So I will remember that night, the way he looked across the table, how he grabbed my hand as we ran across Lindell in the rain, and how the evening ended as so many of our evenings did. This was our usual, bi-weekly evening: It would be cold in Nick’s apartment, so after I sat on the couch, he’d throw the grey fleece blanket on me. We’d sit on the couch, and he’d be restless for a while, trying to get comfortable, the whole time asking me what I want to watch. We’d decide on a movie, or an SNL episode (the one with Feist and Brian Williams being a favorite), or an animated television show. I’d sit somewhat sideways, with my toes tucked into the crack of the sofa cushions, the tops of my feet against his hip and the side of his thigh. If I make a comment during the show, he’d stop the program, and have me repeat what I said before responding. Sometimes I have to repeat myself again. Then he’d rewind the show to where we were before I started talking. Sometimes he’d look over at me. Sometimes I’d steal a glance at him. I loved his loud laugh. He’d look at me when I giggled. His arm would drape across the back of the couch, and he’d lean slightly toward me. Sometimes I would start to fall asleep, but when he laughed, I’d wake up and feel happy. I was always happy when we were together.
I refuse to say bye to Nick. I flat out refuse. And here’s my reasoning. Anyone who met Nick, knew Nick, loved Nick, knows that he is an amazing man. His smile, laugh, silly dances, and love will live in our hearts. We have these special memories that we hold dear to us, creating this common bond. So Nick won't leave; he’s in you, and me, and the bond we share as people who love him so much. So I refuse to say bye to him. Instead, I choose to say, “I love you.” I love Nick, and I love all of you, the family that was his everything, because we all hold a piece of Nick within our hearts.
Love,
Holly
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
I feel numb
Some updates (for the no one who reads this thing, but just my own sanity nontheless)
1. My name is not Holly; and my friend's name is not Nick. They aren't even nicknames. My boyfriend is crazy, and I don't want him finding this blog. And yes, I know I should break up with him. I was planning on breaking up with him on Wednesday, but that didn't happen because...
2. I got a call on Wednesday from Nicks' mom. She told me that Nick has been acting out a lot lately, and on Tuesday he ran away from home, saying he was running away to die. The entire town had search parties sent out, and the found him 4 hours later wandering down a random street. His mom I should come out as soon as possible; the doctors are saying he probably has 2 weeks. I had a complete breakdown, so my mom flew in from Phoenix to be with me.
3. I have an airline voucher to fly to be with Nick, and I'm just waiting for his parents to tell me when to come. The day after talking to his mom, I talked to his dad, who said I should wait a few days. He's not himself and refuses to see people, even his own parents. So I did what any good Greek girl would do: I ordered a rediculous amount of baked goods to be delivered to his parents' house, found an online company that ships gelato (something we used to eat together all the time), and packed my bags so I will be all ready to go once I get the call.
I am trying so, so hard to not fall into the bad habits I've used as crutches in the past: bulemia, over-eating, obsessive working out, stress shopping. I'm trying to write down my thoughts, work through my issues and really just experience and acknowledge my feelings. That's easier said than done.
Please pray for my friend, his parents and sister, and all his family and friends.
1. My name is not Holly; and my friend's name is not Nick. They aren't even nicknames. My boyfriend is crazy, and I don't want him finding this blog. And yes, I know I should break up with him. I was planning on breaking up with him on Wednesday, but that didn't happen because...
2. I got a call on Wednesday from Nicks' mom. She told me that Nick has been acting out a lot lately, and on Tuesday he ran away from home, saying he was running away to die. The entire town had search parties sent out, and the found him 4 hours later wandering down a random street. His mom I should come out as soon as possible; the doctors are saying he probably has 2 weeks. I had a complete breakdown, so my mom flew in from Phoenix to be with me.
3. I have an airline voucher to fly to be with Nick, and I'm just waiting for his parents to tell me when to come. The day after talking to his mom, I talked to his dad, who said I should wait a few days. He's not himself and refuses to see people, even his own parents. So I did what any good Greek girl would do: I ordered a rediculous amount of baked goods to be delivered to his parents' house, found an online company that ships gelato (something we used to eat together all the time), and packed my bags so I will be all ready to go once I get the call.
I am trying so, so hard to not fall into the bad habits I've used as crutches in the past: bulemia, over-eating, obsessive working out, stress shopping. I'm trying to write down my thoughts, work through my issues and really just experience and acknowledge my feelings. That's easier said than done.
Please pray for my friend, his parents and sister, and all his family and friends.
Dear Nick,
For a few weeks, little purple flowers dotted the grass between West Pine Boulvard and the bridge that crossed the railroad tracks. Starting my run, I’d stand among the flowers to stretch, pretending that cars couldn’t see me through the sparse trees. Toward the end of my run, right after the Victorian bridge and before the bridge over Forest Park Avenue, I’d change the song to “1, 2, 3, 4” by Feist. I’d remember sitting on your couch, you patiently fast-forwarding to when she preformed that song on SNL, and how we’d start dancing, swaying, moving our heads to the music. So I’d dance down the stairs, the purple flowers appearing just as I thought I had lost my stamina. But no; I had my thoughts, the song, and the flowers. And I’d always think to myself now wonderful it would be if you were with me, to feel that flying sensation of running down the stairs, full of life and song and purple flowers.
Love,
Holly
For a few weeks, little purple flowers dotted the grass between West Pine Boulvard and the bridge that crossed the railroad tracks. Starting my run, I’d stand among the flowers to stretch, pretending that cars couldn’t see me through the sparse trees. Toward the end of my run, right after the Victorian bridge and before the bridge over Forest Park Avenue, I’d change the song to “1, 2, 3, 4” by Feist. I’d remember sitting on your couch, you patiently fast-forwarding to when she preformed that song on SNL, and how we’d start dancing, swaying, moving our heads to the music. So I’d dance down the stairs, the purple flowers appearing just as I thought I had lost my stamina. But no; I had my thoughts, the song, and the flowers. And I’d always think to myself now wonderful it would be if you were with me, to feel that flying sensation of running down the stairs, full of life and song and purple flowers.
Love,
Holly
Monday, July 7, 2008
Dear Nick,
This whole “living in the same city as my boyfriend” thing is not going well. He doesn’t understand that I need o establish myself here. I’m not here as his girlfriend; I’m here as ME. I need my own friends and my own time. My life doesn’t revolve around watching him do projects around his house. If I’m going to sit around and do nothing, I’m going to do it at my own place. And just because I live here doesn’t mean that he can “stop by” whenever he wants and demand I drop what I’m doing to do whatever he wants me to do.
The intimacy sucks. We don’t get along. Why can’t I just break up with him?!?
A part of me is holding out until you are better, so I can say, “Hey, Chris, I’m leaving you for Nick.”
Love,
Holly
This whole “living in the same city as my boyfriend” thing is not going well. He doesn’t understand that I need o establish myself here. I’m not here as his girlfriend; I’m here as ME. I need my own friends and my own time. My life doesn’t revolve around watching him do projects around his house. If I’m going to sit around and do nothing, I’m going to do it at my own place. And just because I live here doesn’t mean that he can “stop by” whenever he wants and demand I drop what I’m doing to do whatever he wants me to do.
The intimacy sucks. We don’t get along. Why can’t I just break up with him?!?
A part of me is holding out until you are better, so I can say, “Hey, Chris, I’m leaving you for Nick.”
Love,
Holly
Sunday, July 6, 2008
weekend recap
Dear Nick,
This weekend has been okay. Friday, Chris and I went to the house of one of his coworkers for a BBQ. Saturday I worked a very long shift and then went out a bar to see a band whose drummer I know (sorta). Today I worked another long day. I’ve kept busy, which keeps me from thinking too much. But, I’ve been eating like crap and not getting to the gym, so that sucks. This week should be good; I’m only scheduled to work 20 hours, so I have plenty of time to hit the gym and lay out by the pool. Also, I may get my teacher’s editions this week, so I can start planning my scope and sequence for the year. Yay!
I hope you had a good 4th. I miss you.
Love,
Holly
This weekend has been okay. Friday, Chris and I went to the house of one of his coworkers for a BBQ. Saturday I worked a very long shift and then went out a bar to see a band whose drummer I know (sorta). Today I worked another long day. I’ve kept busy, which keeps me from thinking too much. But, I’ve been eating like crap and not getting to the gym, so that sucks. This week should be good; I’m only scheduled to work 20 hours, so I have plenty of time to hit the gym and lay out by the pool. Also, I may get my teacher’s editions this week, so I can start planning my scope and sequence for the year. Yay!
I hope you had a good 4th. I miss you.
Love,
Holly
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
relieved and hopeful
Dear Nick,
After talking to you (and your mom) I broke down into a mess of hysterics. I was crying out of happiness that I heard your voice, saddness that I couldn't be there, and frustration that there's nothing I can do from 1500 miles away. But I was laughing, too, because I was so full of joy to hear your usualy, "hey, what's up?" and "I'll call you later, tomorrow." How typical, how wonderful, how little and small and perfect and beautiful. And the rest of my day has been better, because I got to talk to you, my friend. The emptiness and saddness still lives in my core, but the hope is growing, and the love is burning.
I miss you. Goodnight, my friend.
Love,
Holly
After talking to you (and your mom) I broke down into a mess of hysterics. I was crying out of happiness that I heard your voice, saddness that I couldn't be there, and frustration that there's nothing I can do from 1500 miles away. But I was laughing, too, because I was so full of joy to hear your usualy, "hey, what's up?" and "I'll call you later, tomorrow." How typical, how wonderful, how little and small and perfect and beautiful. And the rest of my day has been better, because I got to talk to you, my friend. The emptiness and saddness still lives in my core, but the hope is growing, and the love is burning.
I miss you. Goodnight, my friend.
Love,
Holly
25 days later!!!
Dearest Nick,
My heart jumped when my phone rang your ring tone. I almost didn't believe it was happening! I cannot describe how good it was to hear your voice. I have no words. I miss you so much.
Love,
Holly
ps- I FUCKING HATE CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!
My heart jumped when my phone rang your ring tone. I almost didn't believe it was happening! I cannot describe how good it was to hear your voice. I have no words. I miss you so much.
Love,
Holly
ps- I FUCKING HATE CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Dear Nick,
I’ve been through so many emotions the past three days. Grief that you are sick. Anger that I haven’t been able to get through to you or your parents. Embarrassment at the thought that maybe I’m bothering you and you don’t want to talk to me. Selfishness for thinking that it’s about me, when really you are so sick. Sadness that I just don’t know what to do anymore. Do I keep calling and leaving the silly messages that make you laugh? I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m a fixer. That’s what I do—I teach deaf kids to listen! But I can’t fix my best friend. I can’t make you better. I don’t know what else to do, so I call. God, I miss you. Tell me what to do, Nick. Tell me what you need from me. Whatever you need, it’s done. Need me to drop everything and fly out there? You bet. Want me to give you bone marrow or blood? You got it. Shave my head when you loose your hair? Done. Whatever you need, I will do it. Anything.
Today I worked a long shift, so I had a nice little lunch break during the first summer thunderstorm. I ate my dinner, sitting on a bench under a porch-like awning behind the store, and it dawned on me—for someone who tries to live without regrets, I messed up big time. I never told you, face to face, how much I care about you. I never told you in person, “Nick, I love you. You are my best friend.” Sure, we talked about it over the phone, but I never really understood when you tried to bring it up. And we talked about our friendship and how we seem to have this unique connection, but we never took it to the next step. We stood in my doorway once, with you talking in circles about bad timing and how things should have been different, but I didn’t get it then. God, I wish I could go back and slap myself! “Holly, do something!” I’d say. But we can’t live in regrets; we can only focus on the future, and the now, and living every moment in a way that makes it matter in the long run.
I’m having a hard time, Nick. I’m falling into bad eating habits again. I’m really worried. I need my best friend now more than ever. This sucks. I’m tired of bloodshot eyes from crying too much.
Love,
Holly
I’ve been through so many emotions the past three days. Grief that you are sick. Anger that I haven’t been able to get through to you or your parents. Embarrassment at the thought that maybe I’m bothering you and you don’t want to talk to me. Selfishness for thinking that it’s about me, when really you are so sick. Sadness that I just don’t know what to do anymore. Do I keep calling and leaving the silly messages that make you laugh? I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m a fixer. That’s what I do—I teach deaf kids to listen! But I can’t fix my best friend. I can’t make you better. I don’t know what else to do, so I call. God, I miss you. Tell me what to do, Nick. Tell me what you need from me. Whatever you need, it’s done. Need me to drop everything and fly out there? You bet. Want me to give you bone marrow or blood? You got it. Shave my head when you loose your hair? Done. Whatever you need, I will do it. Anything.
Today I worked a long shift, so I had a nice little lunch break during the first summer thunderstorm. I ate my dinner, sitting on a bench under a porch-like awning behind the store, and it dawned on me—for someone who tries to live without regrets, I messed up big time. I never told you, face to face, how much I care about you. I never told you in person, “Nick, I love you. You are my best friend.” Sure, we talked about it over the phone, but I never really understood when you tried to bring it up. And we talked about our friendship and how we seem to have this unique connection, but we never took it to the next step. We stood in my doorway once, with you talking in circles about bad timing and how things should have been different, but I didn’t get it then. God, I wish I could go back and slap myself! “Holly, do something!” I’d say. But we can’t live in regrets; we can only focus on the future, and the now, and living every moment in a way that makes it matter in the long run.
I’m having a hard time, Nick. I’m falling into bad eating habits again. I’m really worried. I need my best friend now more than ever. This sucks. I’m tired of bloodshot eyes from crying too much.
Love,
Holly
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