Member-only story
I count Dean as a great love.
July 16, 2023
I recently found out an old boyfriend, Dean, passed away in December. I’ve known something was amiss for a very long time because he’d call to check in every few weeks and I hadn’t heard from him in months. His phone was disconnected.
I called some of the hotels on Pacific Highway. I knew he was staying at one since he’d moved out from his girlfriend’s apartment two years ago. I called local hospitals a couple of times to see if he was inpatient. He’d just disappeared. I don’t know why it never occurred to me to Google his name with “obituary” after. Maybe I didn’t want to know.
Dean was an alcoholic. He’d started drinking at 15, and never stopped for any substantial period of time. It took him down at the age of 66. His favorite was whiskey; a pint a day. When we met, we were big time drinking buddies, but in 2008, I stopped drinking. I was sober for 9 years. But that’s another story…
The last few times I spoke with him, he was suffering from liver failure. He told me how his leg swelled with fluid until he couldn’t walk. He’d had to call an ambulance I don’t know how many times. At the hospital, they removed liters of fluid from his abdomen. I realized he had no idea how sick he was. I knew he was dying; I’m not sure he knew.
