Sharing a Funnel Cake

“… and I want to split a funnel cake. Powdered.”

I hesitated because funnel cake did not fit easily into my fitness plan. But I gave in. I knew what he was doing. He was fantasizing about a weekend getaway. He wanted to rent a cabin, play on bumper cars—which he warned he would get ruthless—and split a funnel cake (that, at my hands, would become a powdered sugar food fight). He had steamy items on his wish list too—but he made it clear that I was under no obligation to share a bed. But he would require a hug.

We had a long-distance relationship, so the weekend getaway was to be our time. And planning it was something of a pastime.

We shared more than plans for a weekend trip or a hypothetical funnel cake. We shared ourselves.

Chip was my unicorn partner, my soul mate. When we met, I wasn’t exactly handing out my number. But he was different. He didn’t force anything. In fact, he had his own hesitation about getting involved with someone.

We met online through a mutual friend and had a private chat as soon as we met. The connection was immediate and undeniable. We felt like we had known each other our whole lives. It was oddly familiar, comfortable. And exciting.

There was a meant-to-be, a destiny.

During a 2 AM chat, I told him my deep, darkest hurt. It was something I had never told anyone, not even my ex-husband, out fear of being judged. Chip responded with tears … and then encouragement about how strong I must be to have come through that.

I also shared my victories, large and small joys, common frustrations, and just the daily stuff.

I had an unusual sense that he knew me. Not the details of my life the way a stalker or previous partner would, but he knew me as a person. He knew my thoughts and would sometimes comment or ask about words I had never spoken out loud. He knew my soul.

We were 2,300 miles apart and he wanted to know about my day. I wanted to know about his. He would ask about the weather was and what I ate, not as mundane chit chat, but to immerse himself into my experience.

. We spent about a year and half just chatting. Clearly, we had feelings for each other, but we both foolishly held the reins back. Then one night he says something obscure about seeing me. When I asked for clarification, he said, “I will take what can get.” It was official; I was his girlfriend.

Occasionally, he would fail to show up for a night. Given the time difference, my late-night chats were his early morning chats. He would get up early to chat but there were a few times that he slept all night. There were also a few times that he failed to show up because a power outage. But in any of those cases, he would message me when he got to work and let me know what happened.

Then came a time that he was gone for several days. No late-night chats, no early morning messages. I grew increasingly upset. My scars and insecurity were telling me he was ghosting me. On my drive home one evening, I screamed “Chip! Where are you?!”

That night, a family member of his contacted me. She said he fallen sick and had been in the hospital in asleep. I am not sure if he was in a coma or being administered a sedative. I didn’t ask. The point of the conversation was that he had just woken that day and asked her to get in touch and let me know what was up. I felt terrible for doubting him, but I was also so relieved.

I almost booked a flight there, but I didn’t. On one hand I regret it. What kind girlfriend am I to not rush out when my boyfriend is in the hospital? But my reason for staying back was solid. I was too sick to go anywhere. I had a fever, chills, persistent cough, headache … I knew it was irresponsible to him, his family, and fellow travelers to go with whatever sickness I had. But I called him.

It wasn’t long after that we were using the three little words that convey a huge intensity of feeling—I love you. And we continued our weekend planning but knew it would be a while before we could execute those plans because of his recovery. We also discussed living together—and marriage.

Then came a huge storm. It knocked his power for days. I checked online with the power company and saw that they expected to have power restored in the area Wednesday afternoon, but he was back online sooner. Wednesday morning, I had a message from him when I woke up. “Sleep well, dear. Sweet dreams.” He had posted it around 3 AM my time.

While he was home recovering from his illness, it was common for him to jump online during the day. If my chat window was open, he would message me. If it wasn’t, he would assume I was busy with work. That Wednesday, I had work I had to get done, but I kept my chat window open. He never showed. And he didn’t show up at our usual chat time Wednesday night either.

Thursday morning, I called him. His mom answered the phone and told me he passed away the previous evening. I remember asking questions about how or what happened, but I did not hear her response. My world was upside down. My destiny, my meant-to-be, my unicorn was gone. And I continue to question myself about why I didn’t call that Wednesday morning.

My world is still upside down. He is always on my mind and my heart belongs to him. I would give anything to have that weekend getaway—to split a funnel cake. Powdered.

*Note: names have been changed