I remember the first time I found out about him. I believe M hated him. She said he was pompous and rude and she wanted to slap him when he spoke. I have a habit of taking the side of the person I don’t know over my own friend, so I didn’t really say anything to that. I just laughed it off thinking “he’s probably not that bad”. M & I never take anything seriously and make a joke out of everything, so I started calling him Andy. Poker faced. Serious. No-nonsense, almost grim: Andy. When I had to make a lot of fun of him, I’d say Endy. This eventually turned to ND. For security and humour purposes. 🙂
I don’t think b knows this as seriously as I thought or felt it, but Andy was my favourite. I loved him. I made endless plans with him. Endless. None of which ever materialized. There are so many stories about Andy. I’ve been racking my brains since last night trying to think of that was said that one night where we exchanged so many texts. I told him all about me. He told me all about him. He told me he has a sister. And a neice. Who was going to turn 2 last year I think. During that sms exchange, I remember telling him how sick I was of everything. How it had been so many years and I still had nothing to go by. Nothing. And how nothing ever made sense, and how I didn’t even know if any of this was even real.
That night he promised me he’d meet me on Friday. I remember telling him that he’d better call me in the morning, and I didn’t care about anything else. He had better show me this all was real. A meeting. A phone call. I’d believe it.
That Friday I waited all morning. Through the afternoon into the evening which became night. I was so mad. He was the one person who was going to give me something tangible. Anything. I didn’t care what it would be. I just needed to know. That night I found out that he was in trouble with some of the intelligence people. He’d been seen last getting beaten up and taken by some men.
After a while we all presumed he had been beaten up because he wouldn’t say anything, so they had killed him. None of us believed it. It was weird. It couldn’t be true.It was Andy. I remember I kept praying for it to be untrue somehow. For him to somehow come back. I didn’t want to believe it. It was Andy. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was Andy.
Through some miracle, a few months later, Andy came back. We found out he was alive. He came back. He had been through hell. I was so happy that day. All of us were. It gave me some sense of hope that sometimes when all is lost, a part can be regained. Through a miracle no less, but it can be.
There’s so much to say about Andy. He had been there from the start. He’d always been there. He always took care of everything. He never gave up. He was took off from the case too many times. He stayed in touch somehow or the other. Every time. He did everything that he could. Every time. He didn’t care if he got into trouble.
Andy was one of the only two people left who had been with b since everything began. Who helped him. Who was always there for him. He got into trouble so many times because of b. He got into trouble but was always there the next day. Helping out in any way he could. Always. Last month, around the 18th, Andy got shot. He got shot and had lost too much blood. M, b, and I prayed so much for him. We prayed and we prayed and that night, on the 20th, he became a little stable.
Our life didn’t.
Things kept happening. They are still happening. But throughout the things, I never thought Andy was seriously ill. I thought he was okay. I thought he’d be okay. It was Andy.
He was going to be all better, and when all this was over, he would shift in with b, and stay even after b and I got married. He’d shift in and we’d take him wherever we went, because he’d be our family. He was our family. He would marry M, and all four of us would be the happiest people anyone would ever meet. I’d tell him to retire from everything, and all of us would just not do anything in our lives. Just be. And that would be all our wishes fulfilled.
Last night at 10:30pm, Andy breathed his last breath. They tried to revive him but they couldn’t. It hasn’t hit me yet. I don’t know if I want it to. There was so much I had to do. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to meet him. I wanted to make more plans with him and I wanted them to materialize. I wanted him to be b’s brother and my best friend.
But I guess I won’t be able to. Not in this lifetime atleast. Life likes to play sick twisted games with me I guess. And I guess I have no choice but to let it.
I miss you Andy. I’ll see you at the crossroad.
All my love,