Mikey. My Friend 11 years gone.

11 years ago this week I got a phone call that changed my life. I was working a 6pm-4am night shift when my phone went off. "Maria, who's Maria.....Maria, Mikey's ex.....why is she ringing me?" I answered only to be told my buddy and room mate had committed suicide earlier that night in the apartment we shared. We'd shared accommodation for nearly a decade and I considered him one of my best friends. A love of films and computer games had bonded us. Now we'd never ever speak again.

The world turned upside down for a moment. I experienced jelly legs for the first time and could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. It was a feeling I wouldn't wish on anyone. Maria then informed me that the police were waiting at the flat and someone had to formally identify his body. I walked into my bosses office to ask him for a lift to my flat and in there I collapsed. 

Walking up the steps to the apartment was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Roper was there. A mutual friend and the man who had alerted police when a text he had received earlier had rang alarm bells. Roper lived in Cork. Far enough away that he wouldn't have made it to Limerick in time. Two gardai outside the bathroom told me to steel myself for what I'd see. I'll spare ye the details but it's an image that will be forever in my head. Back outside a lovely bangarda brought me into the living room and handed me a note that had been left on the table. A suicide note. An actual suicide note. I never thought i'd ever have to read one of those. 

The note painted a picture of an extremely troubled mind. Turmoil I had no idea existed. Being an Irish man meant never talking about your feelings. Keeping your troubles to yourself and letting them gnaw at you until you can't take it anymore. Little did I know that when we were playing 12 hour marathons games of Tiger Woods golf on the PS2 and squirming during Asia extreme movies that he was dying inside. 

In 2018 we're finally reaching a point where it's ok for fellas to share their problems. It's slowly happening more but it's happening and that's the important thing. It's mad that only a decade before it was looked on as a weakness. Something to be compartmentalised and not dealt with. Imagine all the lives would could have been saved and the grief that could have avoided if talking was the norm and not the rare exception throughout the years.

I wish I'd seen the signs. I wish you would have talked to me but I realise you thought you couldn't. 

I miss ya man.