My lovely, wonderful, beautiful, friend, Darin has succumb to his demons.  He is gone.  I knew it was going to happen.  I knew he would eventually be successful and I knew there was nothing I could do or say to stop it.  I know the pain he was in, I know what it feels like to just want it to be over and done with because it isn’t, it really isn’t going to get any better.  I thought I was resigned to it.  I thought I had accepted it and that when it happened I would be sad but I was not prepared for the wave of emotions that are hitting me one after the other right now. 

I am so God damned angry.  So fucking, fucking angry.  At him and at myself.  At him because he knew what he would leave in his wake, how much those who loved him would be in pain, would wonder what they could have or should have done differently.  At myself for being selfish enough to want him to live, to fight, to live with the demons that were always there for him.  

He was only 40 years old.  He would have been 41 at the beginning of next month.  That is such a short life.  Such a waste of time he could have had, for better days and better memories.  For better medications that could have helped him and yet I knew he didn’t want that.  He did not want any more shrinks, any more cocktails, any more of anything.

I wish I could find that place in my heart that is happy he is finally at rest.  He is no longer trapped in his head, with all the vicious things circling in on him.  I understand, darling boy.  I do but still…Still I, for me and for myself – I wanted you in this world.  I wanted you to laugh and sail.  I wanted you to see your step kid’s children grow up and for you to grow old with your wife.  I wanted so much more for you than you could want for yourself.  Darling, darling boy.  I love you, I miss you bitterly.  You damned fucking sweet loving fool.