Welcome to the Club, I'm Sorry You're Here

Friday when I left work was like most others. Relaxing and decompressing in my car, when I finally got around to calling back my friend, Clarence. Clarence and I go back a few years, he's a good guy. Since he's an avid comic book guy, we chatted it up about the newest Spiderman movie, Spiderverse. And yes, it is one of the greatest movies ever, no debate here. I rambled about work for a few, then I went on to ask him about the ladies in his life. Ya know, any prospects kind of convo.

But Clarence caught me off guard, sharing with me that he'd began living with a young lady that he'd known some years back. She told him that she'd had brain cancer. I shared my apprehension, but he said it was all good. Things had been going along well and he was hopeful. He whispered to her that she was going to make it and that they'd soon have beautiful brown babies together.
She died right before Christmas.

Clarence stated "yeah, it was tough, but I'm cool." Except, I know he's not. He's a part of that same fucking club. I don't know if its age or what, but it keeps holding us hostage. Its like a timeshare in the worst way. I told him a bit of my story of losing Pete and how I still cry frequently. How things like a beautiful sunset or a song will still do me in. How I felt like a piece of my arm was missing and how I struggle to feel normal.

I told Clarence that the fact is, you never feel "normal" again, you just learn to live with the pain. I even confessed to Clarence, that when he and I went to see DeadPool 2 together, during the scenes where DeadPool is communicating on the other side with his dead girlfriend, I wept so hard during the movie. Because I know that deep feeling of "please just let me be near you one more time."
Clarence then admitted that he'd never cried so hard after she passed away. He said "I cried until my eyes hurt. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore." Its kind of interesting how when you don't want to bore people with your story, or sound like a nut, or make a situation all doom and gloom with death talk, you kind of clean it up for your audience. But only with other "club members" can you let out how hollowing the feeling is of losing someone you love.

Clarence and I talked a bit more about the whole thing, as I tried to offer some words of encouragement. As the conversation wound down, Clarence ended it by saying that he had to go. But I know in my heart that as soon as we got of the phone, Clarence began crying again. And as soon as we got off the phone, I began crying again too.