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Not a day goes by

by Julianne Algueseva 4 months ago in Teenage years
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A short poem and a story of how I lost my soulmate

Not a day goes by
Photo by Sebin Thomas on Unsplash

Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. Not a day goes by that I wish you would have listened to me and taken that bus instead. Not a day goes by that I wish I was with you at the time of the crash. Not a day goes by that I don't mourn you. I miss your scent that perforated my nose. I miss your kisses upon my forehead. I miss the silly faces you would make when I was down. I miss you, and i still love you, and I always will. Life can be cruel, but death can be worse. Not a day goes by that I can't help but think what could have been.

About 16 years ago I lost my boyfriend/fiancé due to a drunk driver. It was Valentine's Day 2005. I had been sick with some sort of contagious bug for the past 2 and a half weeks. The doctors had told my mother the next Friday I would be feeling much better, especially by the 14th. Which was true. I remember that Sunday night I made a quick call to Matt letting him know of the good news.

I also said there will be a good chance that I won't get to school until around 10:30am. I could tell by his voice he was excited about something. Ever since Matt and I met in the halls at Jordan Junior High we were inseparable. It was like destiny brought us together. Matt was a very talented artist.

He could pop out two professionally done 9x12 markered posters in less than 5 hours. Matt was also a very kind-hearted soul. Being that he was also the school's mascot, both at Jordan and later on Stevens high, he gave spirit to those who needed it on and off the field. Matt and I dated for about 4 years and 8 months. That one year before he met me, he was supposed to have graduated middle school but he was held back due to family difficulties.

I had him in several of my classes in 7th, 8th and into the early high school grades too. Every lunchtime we would talk and learn about each other. During class we would pass notes so much that the teacher had to seperate our desks, but that didn't stop us. The memories of me cheering him on from the bleachers, even when we lost, I still cheered him on from my soul.

That one time I almost punched that cheerleader for calling him that awful name. I remember he got in the middle of us and started doing stupid stuff. I laughed so hard at his moronic chicken act. That cheerleader thought he was crazy, but I didn't care, he always knew what would make me laugh. These were indeed priceless memories. As we both learned about each other and our differences, we also grew more and more spiritually connected. The one time he kissed me was under the bleachers during the highschool pep rally he apologized profusely.

He told me he knew he had crossed the line. Back then, I didn't know I was a Demisexual but Matt somehow did. Somewhere in my soul, I felt that I knew him much longer than just 4 years. It was more like we had known each other since forever. Our first year together Matt had said he was working hard to get something I would love.

I told him that he was the only gift I needed. The night before the accident when Matt told me on the phone he had finally made enough money to get that special something for me. Never in all my life would I have thought what he meant by "special something" was a ring. It wasn't your ordinary ring either. The middle stone was a dark rare heart-shaped African amethyst with diamond chips around it.

However, it wasn't Matt who gave me the ring, but the police. That Valentine's Day, my mother drove me to school. I was late of course, but that was the usual with me. Mom and I saw that they had completely blocked off the back entrance to the school. We saw all the ambulance lights and police. Mom and I thought it was some sort of car accident.

She then turned the car around and drove me all the way back to drop me off at the front side. I waved goodbye, and my mom told me to have a great day and drove off. As I went up the school steps, I was immediately greeted by my good friend Miyah. However, the look on her face was not so friendly. She told me with a whimper that the vice principal was looking for me.

We both got inside the school. I was then greeted and quickly taken by the hand of the vice principal who led me to the main office. I thought I was in big trouble. When I saw the two policemen standing in the office I freaked. I was thinking, "what did i do this time?" One was a rookie and the other was his mentor. They both told me to sit down.

Knowing me at that age I was a rebel to a certain degree. If an adult told me to sit, I would refuse and I did just that. The cops asked me again, but still I told them no. The mentor cop looked me straight in the eyes and told me there was an accident. The rookie handed me a small Valentines bag that held two items. One was a music card that sang "Your Song" by Elton John. It was the song they played accidentally during the pledge of allegiance on the intercom at Jordan when Matt was helping me find my classes the first time.

The note inside was in Matt's cursive. It was a written promise. A promise that no matter what life throws at us that we'll always have each other. The second item was the ring. It was inside a small purple, velvet jewelry box.

At that very second, my heart started racing. I thought this was a joke. This had to be a joke. My mind told me to drop everything. I was thinking this couldn't be happening! So, I did what my brain said and I ran to the outside where the accident had occurred. I could hear the cops right behind. I wasn't the fastest runner but the crowd of kids and teachers did help me get away from the officers. When I was finally outside, to my eyes it was like something out of a horror film.

Pieces of my Matt were scattered all over the brick announcement board and the pavement. His blood was splattered everywhere on the entrance wall. And the two dozen lavender roses he had bought for me specially covered the school grounds. The cops had covered Matt's detached body parts in several tarps. I fell to my knees and started holding myself, crying and wailing.

I felt like my whole world was crumbling around me. My tears soaked my face and shirt. I was shaking and rocking back and forth. I knew from that moment on, this pain in my heart would never cease. The cops finally caught up with me. I wasn't prepared for what that rookie cop was about to say next. "Damn! That does look like street pizza."

The mentor officer pulled him by the arm and took him aside. I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying in the background but it sounded like the rookie was in deep trouble. All I got was an apology from the mentor cop, a woman officer who helped me up and escorted me to the nurses station. The whole school ended up canceling the Valentines Day dance that year. Instead the following week the school held a brief memorial to Matt.

Of course, I didn't attend it. I was in the hospital due to a suicide attempt. The year after, I was a Junior. That whole school year was absolutely excruciating. Stevens had some interesting twin boys move in from another Southern state. These two souls terrorized the whole school, and no one wanted to stand up to them. Not even the principle.

I was mad at myself, my family and the world. All it took was one more thing to set me off and boy did I regret it. I had heard from sources that my friend Miyah always walked home from school. Her brother would pick her up at the local duck pond to drive her the rest of the way. Miyah was the science nerd of our friends group.

We also had another girl named Anita who was gifted in singing but was very shy about it. Our group also had a foreign exchange student from England. He was the comic book geek; the eccentric artist to the maximum level. I was the creative writing/drawing freak, while Matt was the one who brought our unrealistic ideas to life through his art. Even after Matt's passing we all stayed together. Miyah was the only one of the Freaky5 group who was on the A honor roll list. She was never tardy and was always precisely on time.

That Wednesday morning, Miyah was late. She had never done that ever. She was also my lab partner in both science and chemistry classes. About seven minutes after the final bell had rang, Miyah walked through the doors. I turned around in horror. There, my good friend stood with her right arm in a sling and her left knee in a Velcro cast.

Limping over to our desk I noticed she was also wearing big sunglasses to cover up her bruised eyes. I knew who had done this. Matt would have never had settled for this kind of behavior. Of course, I asked her first who did this misdeed. She looked at me and told me that I would get hurt too if I did anything.

That whole morning I planned how I would get back at these disgusting twins. No one wanted to be around these bullies, much less confront them. It was about time someone took matters into their own hands. At lunch I waited patiently and when my moment came I took it. I saw them both heading down the stairs. I slugged them in their heads hard at the same time, and down they went. Almost two flights.

I remember saying, "how dare you hurt those who are different! You have no right!" I also remember hitting them both with my fists and feet over and over. Getting all that rage out felt filling but it still wasn't enough. The kids around me were all shouting, "fight, fight, fight!" When blood started to spill, two football jocks pulled me off of them.

They were still alive, calling me a f**king b-word. I told them both if they ever hurt another person of any color or religion, I would come back and make them both wish they were born girls. The head cheerleader came in and took me to the side. She was one of my personal bullies but later on after high school we would become good friends.

She escorted me to the girls restroom to help clean myself up. In the bathroom stall I hit the wall leaving a good dent in it from all my anger. Miyah hobbled in and asked me if all that rage was because of Matt. I answered back and told her a good portion of it was. I knew nothing was going to bring him back. My life was in shambles. I felt that no one cared or even bothered remembering what had happened.

In that same week I got news that I was to be suspended from the school's library for half a month. My therapy sessions were also increased at the psychiatric clinic. The vice principal also thought it would be best that I should get an extra 15 minutes with the school counselor everyday till the end of the school year. The good news was that my uncle got me kick boxing lessons for 6-months at his local YMCA. For that half year, I learned so much from my coach. I also got some great exercise too. Another good thing that happened is that the twins went back to whatever hole they crawled out from. That, and I earned the respect from all the jocks and cheerleading squad. No one messed with me. Even when I had to transfer to Holmgren because of my lupus partially coming out of remission.

At that time, I was grateful I didn't get into too much trouble. In my belief, it wasn't because people were afraid of me, it was because everyone pitted me for what had happened. After all that, things only got worse in my Senior year. I lost both my grandmothers 4 months apart. My art teacher taught me how to use art therapy. Basically, I learned to draw my emotions out. Most of the drawings she kept, I have some of them that she gave back because it frightened the other students. I still have them in my old art folder. They were indeed symbolic and disturbing. That's for sure.

I felt cheated and alone. I felt that I would never find another like my sweet Matt. However, I will tell you something that all my therapists have said to me and still today, "it will never be easy, but that doesn't mean you should give up." One of my coping strategies is remembering the good times.

Another is celebrating his heavenly birthday. Putting his picture on our family's Ofrenda. Talking and thanking him for everything he did for me in life. Doing a release writing ritual on parchment paper and then burning them. Drawing illustrations of the good times. Even making a personal day to have a good cry.

There are a number of positive ways to deal with death. Life is a gift and it can be enjoyable. Life can also be a real b-word too but that doesn't mean we should end it. There are lots of great opportunities out there waiting for every individual who is seeking such things.

Folks like myself who have been through a traumatizing experience in their lives should not give up or give in. There are always way to work with your past traumas. Yes, it is hard, i know this, and in certain circumstances the pain doesn't get any better. The scars are there, invisible to the eye but noticed by the heart. All we do is keep trying our best. Not a day goes by that i wonder how things could have been.

Teenage years

About the author

Julianne Algueseva

Just your friendly neighborhood writer and craftswoman. Doing all what I can to spread kindness and creativity throughout this wide world.

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Comments (6)

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  • Gina B.5 days ago

    Thank you for sharing this raw personal experience. You have a brave and beautiful soul.

  • Jyme Pride4 months ago

    Simply put--YOU'RE AMAZING! Both as a person and a writer! I had to fight back tears to learn of Matt's death, knowing how close you both were, but it was and is a grand reassurance how you have weathered your grief and is using it as a springboard to help others. You truly move me.

  • Kat Thorne4 months ago

    That was so incredibly powerful and heartbreaking. Great writing.

  • Victor Eaves4 months ago

    What a powerful story and what an idiotic thing said by that rookie cop! Glad you took care of those twins and RIP Matt.

  • Coolest Bean 4 months ago

    I'm very sorry for your loss. Keep keeping on sister!!

  • Amanda Nicole4 months ago

    First of all I'm so sorry for your loss! And second this story is beautiful! I really felt all the pain and longing as I was reading. I think we all have people that we can't stop thinking about after they pass. I know I do. We've all got people we wish we could have one last conversation with, but we know we'll never get.

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