Cyber friend loss...

I lost my friend David last week. Well, he died in April but I didn't realize he was gone until the end of August. He was an online friend, we'd never set eyes on each other. When I'd last talked to him in April (the 4th to be exact) he was depressed over his long term girlfriend having left him for a bad guy. David knew the relationship was crap, but he was distraught that she'd go with a man that had a history of domestic abuse. In the 10 years I'd known him, I'd never heard him so defeated by a situation. He was driving by her house, trying to reason with her. She had called the police, so he'd backed off. It all sounded so crazy and unlike him. I was concerned. But that worry was easy enough to put away, I suppose. It wasn't until August that I'd realized that I hadn't heard from him in a long while. It wasn't unusual for us to go months with little contact, but when I thought of him and our last contact...and went looking on Facebook - I saw that his page had been converted into a memorial page. Friends posting about how much they missed him. Hoping he was racing cars in heaven. I felt sick to my stomach. Had he killed himself? Oh god - had this crazy ex girlfriend killed him? I found his obituary and saw that he'd died in a car wreck only 3 days after our last contact in April. A terrible and violent crash (the police report was online) My race car driving friend had lost control of his car, flipped it and been partially ejected from his car which then caught on fire. The police said they got there almost an hour after they determined the accident had occurred. He was already dead. I'd met David in a strange way. I was online playing poker. Unusual for a stay at home mom in a upper middle class Philadelphia neighborhood. I was newly separated from my husband and desperately lonely. Playing poker (for free) online with strangers was distracting. Kept my mind busy. My friends had no idea I liked to do things like this - I was so devastated by the end of my marriage I couldn't function at all. I acted like I was ok - hanging in there. My normal "I'm fine fine fine routine" which was never true. I had a 4 year old and a 2 year old with profound autism unveiling itself...and my husband was living with a woman he'd met at work. My life had stopped and I was crushed. I could see my life ahead and it had nothing to do with what I wanted. So David chatted with me in the IM window while we played poker. He was funny and a brilliant player. Teased me (as "city girl" - his ex wife was named Amy and he'd rather not call me that) non-stop. We took our chatting off this site to a private IM. We shared so much of our lives. His divorce. His kids and how disconnected he felt from them. He was from Iowa and worked in his uncles large plumbing business. I'm no snob - but this wasn't a guy I'd meet in my local Philadelphia life. I was 100% honest with him about my life. Who I was. How my ex had completely betrayed me. How I also fucked up my marriage. I didn't spin the situation at all...it felt safe to tell him the real situation. I hardly told myself the real truth about some of the stuff. I told him how much and real my urge to run away from all the responsibility. How life ahead seemed unlivable. He was calm and sweet and listened. But we didn't talk about serious stuff that much, honestly. We just joked around. Tried to make each other laugh. Played poker. This was NOT a courtship, to be clear. We weren't flirting. It was an amazing friendship. Better than dating. He was so careful - he clearly had grown an affection for me. But knew I was in agony and needed his friendship. We got to the flirting later - oh boy did we. He was angry about my ex on my behalf. Talking about real men not abandoning a family like he had. He was always on my side. Available for advice. As time went on - I got better. And we were on more level footing. He shared his messed up relationships. I was an available ear. I talked about my first foray into dating. He didn't like any of the guys right off the bat. (ha!0 When my Dad got sick and died a couple of years later - our friendship went into high gear again. He sent flowers and texted to keep connected. My friends locally are great, but I'm lousy at asking for help. And they aren't good in a crises. David was always available. Over the years - our chatting got more infrequent. We'd re-connect every few weeks or months - I'd tell him about my relationship troubles - he'd tell me I needed a real man. I'd hear about the latest psycho woman he was going with - and tell him he needed a sane woman. We pat each other on the back and affirm that WE were right and THEY were wrong. It was good to know he knew all of my baggage and still liked me. We'd started flirting at some point. Imagining what it would be like if we lived in the same town. Would we really still get along in person? Fall in love? Have a super hot sex life? (he never seemed to find women that liked sex - and I exclusively had relationships that were...the opposite) We hatched a plan to meet in Chicago about 5 years ago. Spend a weekend together. Just to see. Who knows how serious either of us were. I knew it was 100% something I'd do. I like an adventure. But he seemed to be a bit intimidated by my relationship stuff that he'd heard about. I was ending things with men as soon as it wasn't exactly what I wanted. Moving on to the next. So I think he was nervous about us actually meeting. It was ok with me - our online friendship suited me fine. Why does it feel so terrible that I didn't know he'd died? I guess he doesn't know I didn't know. Maybe because he'd been such a good friend to me years ago and I hadn't even noticed that he had died. I wrote David a letter today and hit "send" - it bounced back. (his work email had been shut off) Here it is: Dude! I'm angry. April 11th? Seriously - you died April 11th? We'd just chatted about how sad you were - I said you should get some help. That Jen would become part of your past. DUDE...what happened? Jesus. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize you were gone. (gone - sounds awful, doesn't it? Where ARE you anyway?) I had a terrible summer with gracie - I'm not sure she can stay home - she's so violent and aggressive. Tantrums all summer. And I have this cute boyfriend - but it's not perfect. (you know how) (sigh) I'm so sad. My friends here don't know why - I mean - I never met you in person. We just chatted and flirted for years. It sounds so silly - somebody from far away is gone - and I'm heartbroken. I've re-read our flirty texts from April. WOW - big fun. I wonder how I can save? Make sure don't get lost somehow. I know how pissed you must be. I hope the accident wasn't painful. I'm sure it was sudden. The kids will be fine...which is, I'm sure, your main concern. They won't be FINE - but they'll be ok. They have great memories of you to keep. And you'll be active in their minds, they'll know what you'd think about x y and z - even if you're not there to remind them. You imprinted enough - so they have you with them from now on. I think about my dad all the time. Things I wish I could tell him. Things I want to ask him. I know what he'd think about stuff. And your parents will be there for the kids too. I don't know, though. It's nothing but bad that you're gone for them. Bad for you. Bad for them. I wonder if Jen came to the funeral? I should as your friend Chondra and see. If she brought that dude, etc. I know you'd want to know. Weird. When my dad died - I think I probably told you- i'm an atheist. But I had the overwhelming desire to believe. Believe that there was some benign force that would make sure that he was not in pain. Not sad or lonely. That he was at peace. AND that I'd get to see him again. Talk to him. Like - I REALLY wanted to believe, but know better. The religious words - mercy - hope - spirit - suddenly had meaning. I feel the same with you. Country boy - I hope we get to talk again. Flirt again. Tell each other that we're awesome and that everyone else in our lives is WRONG. HA I don't want to say goodbye, so I won't. I'll write again. I love you sweetie. I hope things are ok where you are....(I'm sure they are.) xoxo City girl