My best friend died over a month ago. I was with him at the end and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. As painful as it was to be present for his labored last breath, it would have haunted me to know he left this world alone. It would have been soul altering to know he would have looked for me only to find I wasn’t there.

It is said that there are 5 stages of mourning. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It is clear that the 5 stages were defined by someone who believes that death is the end. That once someone ceases to live that they cease to exist. If you believe otherwise, that death is the transition to another existence, that the essence survives, then emotionally processing the loss of a loved one is somewhat different.

I loved my best friend dearly. He was my guide, my confidant, my ride or die guy. He taught me that you find joy where you put it. That the heart expands with the give and take of love. That all that life holds can be found in the moment. I wanted so much to step into a moment as easily as he did.

I could feel my heart tear to pieces as he took his final breath. I knew in the moment that I would never be the same. That my life had lost a light that had been a beacon to safety for me. His life was about him. In the depravation of his presence, I would have to make it about me. He was on his way to where he knew he was going. I was in uncharted land.

The breaking of my heart was a step in the process of letting him go. With his new found freedom, he had to know what part of my heart was his, that part that belonged to him and only him. In his absence, it would be my responsibility to recognize what he took and what pieces of himself he left in their place. More than a month later and I am still learning.

In the days that followed his demise, an overwhelming sadness was fodder for what would come next. In sadness, it feels as if time stops, but it doesn’t because sadness is a transitory feeling. No one stays sad for long. The heart adapts to the situation and it becomes something else. The movement is toward a light or turning into darkness. The weight of the void he left was like pushing a bolder uphill. If I stopped, the bolder would roll back down, crushing me in its path. And that would have been a betrayal of all that he was to me.

The voice in my head that I recognized as his, promised that it would all be alright. That I would be alright. That promise was the one sure thing of his that I never let go of, that I held as dearly in his death that I did in his life. I had to trust it.

But my alright was going to be very different from when we were together on the same life plain. He was the spark to my joy. My alright was going to be just okay for now. Those moments, as they shared equal space in my life with profound sadness were the stepping stones that prevented me from falling into the depth of his voided being.

The emptiness increased as I moved further from his once vibrant life. The day after he died, he sent me a message of undeniable meaning. I found a white feather in a place of such randomness. His message was that he had gotten to where he was going. And that he hadn’t forgotten me. That was all I asked from him as I shed my tears over his lifeless body.

In the days that followed there were more signs. His name on a shirt someone was wearing incidentally, a picture of the two of us appearing haphazardly. I took these events as incontrovertible proof that he was still nearby. I used that faith in him to fill the hole he left behind.

My best friend saw me for who I was, not for what I could do for him or what he could get from me. Neither was I a replacement for someone else. He saw the whole of me with no judgements about any part of me. He accepted me unconditionally. The view he had of me was reflected in his eyes. I could see me in the way he saw me.

My trust in him was unmeasured. In his pain, he never lashed out or became reactive. All that trust I had in him now has nowhere to be fed, to survive and thrive. Its like an arrow shot from a bow that mises the target. It just flies to a destination unknown.

I had things to do for him after his passing. There were things to be taken care of. He was without a biological family. I was all he had. His belongings needed to be dispersed. I wanted to make the choices that best honored him. He always wanted to be helpful to those smaller, weaker, or less fortunate than him. His things went to the benefit of them.

He loved to swim. In the end, it wasn’t hard to know where his ashes were going to be spread. We are of the earth and the earth is where we return. He always felt at peace in the water. You could see it wash over him, literally and figuratively, the peace that water gave him. The joy and excitement always gave him back his youth, however temporarily. I returned him to the water.

I commute over a bridge that crosses over the body of water I spread him in. Now, as I drive to work and glance down at the water, I am imbued with a calm I have never felt before. Knowing he is there brought him back full circle. All that I learned from him I still know. All that he saw in me, I still am. And more. Because of him.