…the way forward…

Several years ago, I met Jimmy. Also known to all those in the bar as Jimmy Love. It didn’t really matter what night you came in, Jimmy was usually there, “having a nightcap” after work before going home to bed.

I hadn’t been to the bar to meet up with my friends in ages. Partially because my ex still runs in the same crowd. I remember telling Jimmy that was I going to cut back my visits. I assured him that it wasn’t because I didn’t want to see him (quite honestly, I had grown quite fond of our weekly chats) — it was because I needed to break myself from seeing the ex. It had just become too much for me.

The thing was, Jimmy understood. When the ex and I broke up (even though I had doubts within myself) and even though he didn’t know the details, he saw me and told me that I looked like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and that I’d be happier…he said “trust me, it’s coming.” It was with his words that I became confident in my decision.

When things had become a little more difficult for me, he reaffirmed that I was strong, and I would make it. Sure enough, I did.

So now I wonder if I failed him, by not being around to tell him that life was going to be okay. Jimmy may have been an older gentleman, a veteran who had undoubtedly seen many things — so I wonder, why now, did he choose to leave us in this way.

Part of me wishes that I would’ve went up to the bar last week, but I wouldn’t have had anymore to tell him than what I’ve told him week after week. I just wonder if I could’ve told him I loved him one more time, if it would’ve made a difference?