The Ghost

I saw him as I was walking into the supermarket.
It was one of those moments when you just stop. There you are with your mouth gaping open, feet glued to where they took their last step. He looked a bit older, like he had aged a good 5 years since I last saw him, which would make sense - since it had been 5 years since I last saw him.

But it wasn't him. He took his life two and a half years ago.

I probably freaked the guy out - standing there, gaping at him, looking as if I had seen a ghost. I would say he looked like J's brother, except J's brother was the opposite of J, and more resembled a circus freak in my opinion (with the creepy personality to go along with it).

I called a friend immediately. I felt like crying. She asked which J it looked like... and I immediately knew what she meant. He didn't have the big fro of curly hair J sported for a while, and he wasn't the J who was all coked out and decide to shave his head one night, leaving him looking like he was sick with some awful disease. He looked like the J we'd all love to remember.

I have thought about him a lot the last few weeks, which is why it was so heartstopping to "see" him. Especially to "see" the J we'd all like to remember, because that is not the J that remains in my memory.

I bore the brunt of his anger, frustration, resentment. To him I was "the devil". Since his death I have been haunted...not just by how he killed himself, or the terrible disease he suffered from, but by my memories of him. At his memorial, I cried because he had died to me a long time ago, and because I had so many unhappy memories surrounding him, that I couldn't remember the good.

What would I have done if it really was him walking out of the grocery store?

I would have given him a hug.

Instead - I went home and cried.