The climb

Every day that goes by is another day I live longer than one of my best friends from middle and high school. He struggled with mental health from the age of 9. That's generally what happens when you have slight Asperger's syndrome, go to public school, are so super intelligent that some kids can't keep up with how fast you talk, you have divorced parents, two sisters to feel responsible for, and an abusive dad that you live with half of every year.

This friend was very dear to my heart, since I have siblings and family members with autism and other disorders that affect your ability to do anything having to do with other people. I would have protected him with my life had I known he was hurting so much. I'd have tracked down every bully, gotten him some much needed help to deal with his dad, anything he needed, I'd have done it.

I was his confidant. He had sworn me to secrecy, and as a person who cared about him so much, I kept my oath. He would come to school and tell me about what his dad had done this time. He'd lay his head on my shoulder, and I'd tell him I was there for him, that everything was going to be alright. I treated him like my own flesh and blood. It was almost as if he was.

I caught wind a few months before what he did that he had a crush on me. He told one of his gay friends, knowing that she would support him all the way. She accidentally let the secret out though, and he was confronted by another useless bully about how he could never have a real relationship with a girl, and, as an added bonus, made a joke about out of everyone, why her? All I focused on in his one moment of true need, was tha fact that I was also being put down. I wasn't there for him like I should have been. I didn't support him, like I always swore I would.

Then a few weeks later, schools were closed indefinitely. Everyone was told to stay home, and not to go see anyone. Seeing as it was his dad's week, he was now stuck alone with his dad in the house for weeks. I told him everything would be fine, just to try and stay calm and mind his own business, so that nothing bad would happen with his dad. God, I should have told someone. I just let him go off and be trapped with his mentally and physically abusive jack of a dad.

I didn't have a phone, so I couldn't communicate with many people back then. Just the one person I had a phone number for. I looked him up in an old fashioned phone book, trying desperately to find a way to talk to him. I went walking in his neighborhood, hoping I would happen to run into him. I never did.

Then virtual school started. He was there. And nothing looked wrong. So I though he was okay. We emailed through our school account, and talked like nothing was wrong. He would tell me about how things were, and I'd tell him the latest drama with my sister. We both enjoyed our time chatting in our free time. It became a habit.

School was partially opened back up by the winter time. We were so excited because we'd both be at school at the same time, since our last names were close together. We got to ride the bus to our fancy smart people magnet school together (he clearly belonged there, but had to help me with everything, but I was not the brightest in the room, ever. In fact, it was him. He was always the smartest).

We would sit on the bus with our masks covering most of our faces, and talk. Just like old times. And that's when he decided to tell me that it was getting bad with his dad again. He told me it had been rough, but that he was handling it. Until his dad started drinking again. Then it got much, much worse than I was ever around to hear about. I didn't know what to do. I told a friend, without using names, and asked what she thought I should do. She told me to listen to him, to keep his secret until he was ready to tell someone. I didn't want to, because I knew my friend was hurting, mentally and physically, but I listened. I told no one after that.

One day we sat on the bus talking about what we wanted to study in college, what we wanted to be when we grew up. This was a day that we had a very hard math lesson. I, of course, understood none of it, and he was acing the practice tests already. That's when he told me he wanted to be a math teacher. He wanted to teach a program like the one we were in, because our teacher inspired him. I thought he would make an amazing teacher, and I told him that. He coughed a little after telling me that, so I scooted away slightly, not in a mean way, just in a covid social distancing kind of way.

He didn't come to school the next day, so I assumed he was sick. Then the weekend went by, and he wasn't in school monday or tuesday either. I assumed he was quarantined, and that he was sleeping, so that was why I hadn't heard from him. I didn't really think too deep about it. On tuesday night, I was sitting at the table doing my homework, like a responsible high school honors student, and I get a notification on my computer. It made a loud ding, since my volume was on, so my mom heard it, being a few feet away in the kitchen.

I read the message, from one of my friends who is known for being very goofy, always cracking some joke or another, sometimes very dark humor jokes.

The message said "abby did u hear what happened to m (not full name for privacy)?

I responded "no what"

She said "he's gone abby. he committed."

At first, I didn't know what she meant. I was mostly a sheltered child, and I hadn't been getting the full high school experience thus far, so I had no idea what that meant. So I responded, "what? theft?" with a laughing emoji.

She took a long time (only a few minutes but not instantly like the other messages) to respond to that one. When she did, she said, "abby i'm going to say it like this so you understand. he died. suicude. yesterday."

I read that message over and over again, even weeks after that. In the moment, I just stared at it, not able to move. I guess my mom noticed the look on my face, because she asked me what happened. I told her I needed some air. I went outside and my dad was setting a fire to burn some wood. So I went out and sat in front of it for hours, staring at the flames, thinking about him, our last conversation, his face; hoping I'd never forget a single part of him.

All of this to say, to this day, I'm not the same person I was before he was gone, but I know now how I should go about helping someone who is struggling, or at least what not to do.

And I've blamed myself so many times in the three and a half years since he's been gone, but I've learned how to cope with that pain also.

The biggest thing I've learned through all of this is that you never know what people are going through, even if you think they're telling you. Some battles can't be fought without a little courage, and giving someone that little push or glimmer of hope can save their life.

I hope that if I come across anyone else in my lifetime who struggles with some burden or weight, that I can help them carry it, or at least unload just a fraction of the baggage to make the climb possible.