“My hearts been hard to find…”
Love is an interesting concept… it can mean so much to some, and so little to others. I use it to express affection for my closest friends. In terms of soul deep love, I’ve only said “I love you” in that way once, to my ex partner with whom I was together for six years. But I’ve felt it twice. For me, saying the words is vital, so people understand they have value, so I remember the good.
To me… love is that deep feeling felt between souls, yet also that easiness felt in friendship. It's in those who make us smile. It’s support and understanding when the clouds of our darkest moods gather on the horizon. It is in sharing little inside jokes, it is in the sharing of passion and trivialities. Love inspires us, and when we relent and give ourselves over to it, it rouses and stirs our soul to life (in my case, shaking me free of a decade long writers block). It’s in our instincts to protect our children. It’s in that rush we feel, in fantasy and imagination, the person who evokes desire. It is in true friendship, it is in true romance. It's in small kindnesses. It’s in everything we hold close to our hearts and the life we long to have.
I remember him… my friend. We hung out together often, often sneaking away to the stereo in my room during one of the many social gatherings our big crazy band of freaks threw on weekends. We would pick a Nick Cave album and enjoy our favourite tracks, dissecting his mythology and worlds. He was one of the most well-read people I’ve ever met, and I happily listened to him wax lyrical about philosophy and corners of history I knew little about. I remember once we were all on another plane, dancing while on LSD and MDMA to trance like Delerium. My partner was on the couch, nursing his third glass of red wine like it was his first born as I twirled and moved with the music. Suddenly the music stopped, and Leonard Cohen was playing.
“Why did you change the music!?” A group of us demanded, indignant.
“I wanted to put something less depressing on” he responded, to which my partner and responded in unison “So you choose Leonard Fucking Cohen??!?” It’s a memory that always makes me smile.
I remember when he died... he had messaged me a few times in the months before, wanting to have dinner, and I kept putting it off. Not because I didn't want to see him, it's just life got in the way, you know? I hadn't known he was spiralling, that his demons were closing in. One night, he went out to the Gap, a cliffside on Sydney's coast that had a fence installed a number of years back. But for someone determined, someone who felt they were beyond saving... they could still find a way to scale that fence. That's what he did, triggering the alarm. He waited for the police to arrive, and as they carefully approached him trying to find the words to calm this lost soul, he turned to them and simply said "I'm sorry, I can't". And he jumped, leaving his 3 year old son and those who loved him behind.
I will always carry the weight of those last few months with me. I have helped many in pain, walking them through their darkest days. I could have helped him...and I didn't. I remember the funeral, hundreds showed up, the crowds spilling out of the small chapel. My heart broke because I understood that loneliness... you may have many in your life but when it's late at night, and you feel like there is no-one you can call who will understand your lowest moment, it’s the loneliest feeling in the world. But I loved him, my friend who adored Nick Cave as much as I do. I loved him and never said it.
It's maybe why the words are important to me, perhaps why in the small number of friendships I have, I don't want the people I care for to not know I love them if something were to happen. Even when he fights his own love for me, I will always feel it for him. I am not afraid of my pain, of heartbreak. To quote the beautiful words of Nick Cave...
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