It was early March 2000.
Rob and I went to coffee at Dappers, ordering bialys and ranch as always.
We stayed for a few hours, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
He wrote me a long letter.
Apologizing for the first time, three years later, three years after our breakup.
That was what I needed, to know that he was sorry, that was the first time he had said the words I am sorry.
He made me a mix tape; told me every song had meaning.
Rob was my high school sweetheart.
I did not believe in it until it happened, love at first sight.
Instantly drawn to him.
I knew in my soul that I would love him.
After we met, we spent every day for the next three years together.
I loved him with every ounce of me.
He stirred something in my soul; our connection went beyond this lifetime.
It was far from a perfect relationship.
We were teenagers with teenage problems.
We dated for three years; we were broken up for three years.
We were still close, still friends.
He was trying to get me back, but I could not find it in my heart to forgive the betrayal.
He had cheated on me.
He regretted it, but I held a grudge.
My teenage brain unable to see past it.
Froze all my feelings, just froze.
It had been two weeks since Rob and I met at Dappers.
Being freshly twenty-one, I was out in the city with my friends to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.
On the way home, my friend’s car spun out a full 360 across all 4 lanes of the highway.
We all screamed, hearts stopping.
Narrowly escaping death, I got home around 4 or 5 in the morning.
Unbeknownst to me, in that same moment, as our car spun out, so would another car on another road.
I had two messages on my answering machine from Rob.
He was upset, fighting with his best friend Brian.
Said he tried to kill himself, said he was on the way back from the hospital getting stitches in his arm.
I figured I would call him back later that day, being 5am on the 18th.
There was a bar in the suburb that we lived in that went all out for St. Patrick’s Day weekend, tents, bands, extended hours for the whole weekend.
That was the plan for Saturday night, the St. Paddy’s festivities in town.
I had friends over that day; we watched the movie What Dreams May Come.
That day was the first time I had seen it.
It had a significant impact on me, still does, what a great movie.
After the movie we headed over to the bar.
I was leaving the bar.
Going to lead some friends from out of town back to the highway so they could get back home, Google Maps nor MapQuest existed yet.
As I was pulling away from the bar I saw an old friend, Bobby, he was one of Rob’s best friends.
Normally, I would wave as I drove by.
For some reason that day I pulled my car over and got out to say hi.
I ran up with my big smile to give him a hug, “Hi Bobby.”
He looked at me.
He looked at me and he said, “you don’t know do you?”
“Know what?” I replied standing in the middle of the road, streetlights on, people waiting.
Then he said it, he said Rob died.
Everything went black.
I fell to the ground, just instantly my legs gave out, and I fell to the ground, knocked down by the weight of those foreign words.
“No, no he’s not he just called me last night,” he had not called me back from earlier in the day.
I tried calling Rob.
I tried 100 times, over, and over again. No answer.
I tried and tried and tried.
At this point word was starting to get around.
My other friends were on their way to meet me at the bar.
I sat outside on the curb at the bar, music blaring in the background, no answer, no answer, no answer.
I tried calling his mom, no answer.
Sarah McLachlan’s new song, Angel came over the speaker.
Playing loud in the background.
His grandpa answered, “Yeah, he’s dead,” then hung up.
I shattered into pieces.
I did not know grief yet, not soul crushing, eye gouging relentless grief.
I did not know that longing, pain, and disbelief could be so strong.
I did not know yearning.
I kept saying where are you?
Where are you?
Like a broken record, a song playing on repeat.
Far from comprehending that he was not here anymore, just disappeared.
After his services and the reception, we were at his mom’s house.
I sat alone on the back steps looking out over his backyard while everyone gathered inside.
“Where are you? Where did you go? If you can hear me, give me a sign.”
In that very moment I looked down at the grass.
My eyes went directly to a four-leaf clover.
The only one that I have ever found.
I still have that four-leaf clover, to this day, 26 years later.
As always, I would love your comments, stories, or feedback.
