There are no words to express the sadness and the pain of losing Frankie.
Frankie commit suicide. I found out the following afternoon. I’m still a wreck. I started by mourning for his own anguish, and what he was going through, and the pain he must have been in to reach the final conclusion. Then I cried for his family, his sister, who lost her father and brother to the same end, his mother, his nephews, his girlfriend, whether on or off. And now I’m thinking about myself and how I can move on. I hear they will do a private service, which I respect, but how can I say goodbye?
In the past I’ve said I’ve felt “love” for others, like Ryan or Noah, but this was an attempt to fill the emptiness inside me. I for the first time .. since my first.. loved someone for their qualities. I loved Frankie, I really had a special feeling for him. I didn’t want to admit it so I wouldn’t appear rejected, but I mentioned several times how much I liked him. It was not a needy love like what I felt for Ryan, or a sexual one, he wasn’t a replacement for someone else like Noah and at the end of whatever romantic thing there was, we were friends. True friends. We talked. We confided in each other. During that short month of him avoiding me, I was sad that I wasn’t seeing his face anymore and I contacted him because I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing him again. He was in my apartment, I was in his bed, we would talk ALL day, he would come into my job twice a day at times. Even after he withdrew, we were still close. He told me I understood him, he valued my opinion and I only hope and pray that all my advices to him were used for good. When he called me to talk about his ex, I remember feeling crushed but in a way just as close. It wasn’t about being with him, but there for him. I remember texting him not to forget about her, because I just wanted him to be happy, and I didn’t want him to die alone.
I’m still in disbelief. I’ve run through the gamut of emotions. Yesterday, I cried until I had nothing left. I slept at my sister’s. On the subway, tears streamed without warning. I worked today, but it’s been coming and going in waves. I only wish I could have done more.
He was out of work for a little bit again, told me when he was coming back. Last week when I saw him walk in, I gave him a hug, completely unashamed, and he hugged back, so tight. Basically, since the first time I saw him, in January, all I would wait for was for him to walk in the door. Him walking in and hogging the whole counter was the highlight of my day. He was all I could talk about. Even after the whole intimate/romantic thing stopped, I loved seeing his face, there was never one time I did not want to see him. I couldn’t even be mad at him when I wanted to.
I was with him two days before it happened. The day before that he came into my job and came right up to me and kissed me on the cheek, in front of everyone. He left without saying goodbye though, I was busy with a customer. I texted him immediately saying how he left, and he said I was busy. But I said at least I got a nice hello and you seem happy, etc. He said, it’s all an act. I was trying to persuade him after that that we should go out and talk, as I always did. I think he assumed I wanted dinner and drinks, and I always assured that I just wanted to have a longer in person conversation, to catch up, to have human contact with him, it wasn’t about a wild or fancy night out. I offered to meet him somewhere close to his house, just for coffee, or simply call me, talk to me. He said we would go out again soon, and again I reminded him it’s not about going out, so he promised he’d call me the next night. That was two days before it happened.
I saw him at work during the day. He called me as I was closing, so I said I’d call him back. I did. On the phone we spoke about his new doctor, whom he liked, but this doctor couldn’t fit him in his schedule, Frankie works irregular hours as well. He somehow felt…. dejected, disappointed, like there was nothing else he could do. This doctor stopped returning Frankie’s calls. I said maybe he was busy, but Frankie brushed that off as an empty excuse, which it was. I asked Frankie if being hung up on the doctor was in any way a subconscious obstruction to moving forward. He said, no, he said he wanted help, he wanted to go talk to someone. I said there are many on Columbus Circle, maybe you can go right after work, but he wanted to go close to his house, which is way out there. I asked where he was stationed. He was in a booth by himself, I didn’t tell him I was coming, but it would be easier to talk. I found him, we laughed. He let me in his booth. I sat on the desk and we talked.
His leg was shaking, I pointed it out. I didn’t want him to feel that way. That anxiety which overwhelmed him. He had a plan. He told me he was going to volunteer, at a children’s hospital. I thought it was a wonderful idea. He spoke fondly of his nephews, his ex was a teacher and he respected her not only as a caretaker, but someone who loves what he does. I think he perhaps wanted to emulate this. I encouraged him, because it would break his routine of home and work, home and work. He hated his job. He felt unproductive, that he only walks around a grey bus station in the bowel of Manhattan. I suggested, and resuggested in writing, which makes me wonder if it was the final straw, that he try to figure out in himself what triggers his anxiety, because in understanding that, you can try to adjust your behavior, your reactions accordingly, so that they don’t create this chain reaction of anxiety and depression. It sounds reasonable, but I didn’t realize he had lost his ability to reason at that point. I can only imagine him pacing around his house for the next two days having followed my advice, and deciding that it was too much. I didn’t want to get him in trouble so I left his post. I kissed him on the cheek. This is where I have regrets. I wish I showed more affection, I wish I was reassuring, I wish I spoke more in future terms, I wish I asked if he ever thought about suicide. I was always uneasy about him owning a gun, as an officer, but I figured he’s had it for so long, something would have happened by now, he wouldn’t…
I wrote him an email as soon as I got home, to “remember what I said” to try to figure out what triggers this chain reaction, and that you think you know everything about yourself but you’ll find out “there’s an ocean that you haven’t discovered yet.” To the rational mind, that’s a positive statement. I intended it to mean, that this isn’t it. There’s so much more to you than what you’re going through. I also reminded him that I fully supported his idea to volunteer and instead of finding the info for him, he should do it, because he’d feel more rewarded.
I wrote him that I’d check in on him.
I signed it [hugs] and my name, followed by (pumpkin) cause he called me that often.
I didn’t check in. On the day that it happened, I thought about him several times. I should have called. I didn’t want to push him too hard. I wanted to be there for him when he needed me, not when I thought he needed me. He knew I was always there, I reminded him that when I left. He seemed wistful that night, but he smiled, and laughed.
I didn’t check in.
The thought of him pacing around in those last moments, in so much pain, he didn’t deserve it. He was a good man. I was immediately drawn to him. His sweetness was obvious, his sincerity was rare. He was gentle and kind.
If only I could have told him. I loved you Frankie, for who you were. You were my friend except the intimacy we shared is not common among friends. I’ve not touched another friend like I’ve touched you, I’ve not spoke about a friend, like I spoke about you all day. I’ve not obsessively communicated with another friend the way we did. I cared about you like I cared about friends I’ve known and loved for years. I was fond of you like a family member. You, in the short time we knew each other, became one of my closest friends. Of my closest and dearest friends, whom I love equally, you and I shared something a little different. I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell you this, if I thought you wanted or needed to know it. You were amazing, I never hesitated to tell the world either.
I loved you, and I’m so sorry for what you were going through. They say you’re in a better place, and I’m worried, but I can’t torment myself wondering. You had so many people who loved you and sometimes that’s not enough. Just know you will always be in my heart even if it seems like I have moved on, because I will have to. I will never forget you.
Because of you, there’s a song in my heart.
Pumpkin.
.
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