So I'm going to start blogging again because this week I met up with two of my gorgeous and clever friends, Lorraine and Sarah, and was told in no uncertain terms that I need to carry on with it. What can I say, I just do as I'm told...
Although actually, it seems quite apt to start this thing again with a bit of a paean to friendship because before I met with the girls on Wednesday I was at a memorial service for someone I loved very much, someone I would have walked barefoot over hot coals for...being at the service and talking about things with other people who also loved him made me realise several things and got me musing on the topic of friendship as a whole...that is perhaps for another day, however, because I want this blog entry to be about a very special human being...
So, the basics. Two year ago my friend Jamie committed suicide. I'd known him since we were at secondary school together and he was one of the sweetest, funniest, warmest people I've ever met. If ever I was upset about something, Jamie was the one person guaranteed to bring me out of my funk by doing or saying something so completely ridiculous you couldn't help but laugh. When we were 14, however, he began exhibiting some fairly odd behaviours; we didn't know it then, but this was the start of an ongoing 15 year battle with paranoid schizophrenia, the condition which would eventually and indirectly claim his life. Schizophrenia turned my sweet, caring friend into a stranger; someone who was either drugged up to the eyeballs on every anti-psychotic drug going or who had stopped taking his meds and was either hospitalised or - to put it bluntly - raving. Sometimes this was funny or endearing - he once rang me in a flurry of urgency to tell me Marilyn Monroe had stopped singing halfway through Diamonds Are A Girls Best Friend and told him to ring me at once to tell me I was beautiful - but sometimes his episodes made him nasty and, in the very worst cases, violent. When he was taking his medication we were able to maintain some form of friendship but, as can often happen, after six months or a year he would believe the medication had cured him because he no longer heard voices or saw hallucinations - and he'd stop taking them. This sent him into a downward spiral again and he'd end up back in a psychiatric hospital. It was awful for all of us who knew him, especially his family, but what was also horrific was the number of times Jamie himself realised he'd said or done something to upset or hurt someone whilst in one of his 'episodes'. It devastated him to think he could have physically or emotionally hurt the people he cared about, who cared about him; in the end, the battle with his schizophrenia became too much for him and he killed himself. The funeral, two years ago, was a bit of a blur; all of us were, I think, relieved for him because he'd been so miserable and exhausted trying to fight it all the time. If I'm honest, I think we were also a little relieved for ourselves, which is a horrible thing to admit. The last two years or so of his life were particularly awful for his family especially, and so when the funeral happened it was all a bit raw and...well, it wasn't 'normal'. That's why his parents wanted to do something to celebrate all the good things we remembered about him, rather than reflecting on all the trauma of his illness, and so we all got together and had a really lovely service followed by a damn good chat in the pub. Jamie would have approved wholeheartedly, although I'm pretty sure he would have gone mad at some of the stories we were telling each other!
Every one of us at that memorial had our own very personal stories and memories about Jamie, but the one thing that really stood out for me was just how many people's lives he had touched in the stupidly-short time he was on this planet for. We came from all backgrounds, from all walks of life and yet this one person had, in his own unique and very special way, imprinted himself on all our hearts. It saddens me desperately to think of all the things Jamie never got to do and will never get to experience; it saddens me even more to think he'll never truly know how many people he meant something to or how much we all loved him. I realised on Wednesday that I never told Jamie enough times how much I loved him; how much I valued his friendship; what he meant to me and how he made me a better person. I miss him every single day.
So I guess that's sort of the point of this blog entry. I'm not good at telling people how I feel about them, not even my closest friends and family, but it doesn't mean I don't care. I've been incredibly fortunate to get to know some truly amazing people over the years; astonishingly, some of them consider me friends in spite of my weirdness and my antisocial attitude and my general "not very good at this stuff" stuff. Some of us have been through some really tough times together and come out the other side stronger than ever. Some of us have done nothing but laugh until we're almost sick. The main thing is I know I can count on each and every single one of you, and that is what Jamie taught me. You're not on your own. You're never on your own. There is always someone, somewhere, who cares about you and who can be called on to come help you out when you need it, no matter how big or small the issue is. I may never be the type of girl who has deep and meaningful conversations with you about things, but I want you all to know it doesn't mean I don't love you any less. I may be terrible at taking my own advice (something Jamie pointed out to me so often I considered getting it tattooed at one point) but I like to think I'm good at listening. And being a shoulder to cry on. And dancing wildly in inappropriate places. And laughing like a fool over something which no other person on the planet except you and me would find even remotely amusing.
Someone once said to have good friends you have to be a good friend, but sometimes I wonder if that shouldn't be the other way round. I am a better friend, and a better person, because people are good friends to me. That is a rare and precious gift and I honestly thank each and every single one of you for it. I only hope I can return the favour one day...
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