When I was a freshman in high school I became close with a girl named Kimmie and that'show I met my first love Tommy.
Kimmie was Tommy's sister and once we started hanging out something started with her older brother. At first I did not like him and after I few months I was obsessed with him, I would follow him, page him until his battery wore out. When this first started he didn't really take me serious, then he became hooked on cocaine and when he went to his first rehab I was there for him and we wrote letters to each other. By this time I was very close to a large part of his family, and they thought I was crazy to be involved with him. After he got out of rehab we were close but not how I wanted to be with him. He still wanted to be young and stupid and he didn't want a serious girlfriend. I never thought that almost ten years later I would be mourning his death. After a stint he did in jail for something pretty dumb, he was so different. For the first time in his short life Tommy was clean, sober and had his own business and apartment. We were inseperable for the next two years and he never seemed so happy. This was the first man to ever love me, and I think I was the first and only woman to really understand what kind of person he was. He was intelligent beyond his years, lovable, funny and unbelievably charming. I never saw someone like him, someone who could be rock-bottom and right back at the top of his game. I am not going to even lie and say that our relationship was perfect, in fact far from it. Tommy and I were very alike, both jealous and had bad tempers. We fought a lot we even broke up a few times but we always found our way back to each other. So in the fall of 1997 Tommy broke it off and for good. We spoke often almost every week, then I didn't hear from him in two months I went to the last place I knew he worked. I went to his work and there he was only he was there with his girlfriend. I actually got jealous even though I had a new boyfriend and was living with him. I couldn't really talk to him with his girlfriend there, so I came back the next day. We ducked into a restaurant and talked, I started crying to him and he asked me if I wanted to get back with him, and I told him I don't know. For the next year we would talk over the phone, he would only call me in work since I lived with someone. He finally admitted to me that he was using heroin, and not once did I ever think he would die because of it. He always seemed to make a come back when he messed up. I also found out that his new girlfriend was a heroin addict ofsix years, and as horrible as it is I blame her for getting him this down and out. His new girlfriend, Jessica, didn't like me for a minute because I guess she felt threatened. Tommy also told me that his Jessica was pregnant and I was devasted, I even came home and cried to my new boyfriend. I don't know why I was so upset, maybe because this seemed so definite of us never getting back together. I always felt this connection with Tommy that I never felt with anyone else, so I was so glad to hear it when he told me he was lying about Jessica being pregnant, he said he did it to get me jealous. He called me daily the last six months of his life, I even started talking to his cousin Renee and his sister again. By this time he was pretty strung out on heroin, and I never really realized how bad he was. One of the last times I talked to him I did tell him that I still loved him but we could never be together. But somewhere in the back of my mind I thought "As soon as he gets back on his feet, we would meet again". Right before we hung up one day Tommy said, "I love you." Then he said, "I'm sorry for saying that". I told him thanks,and I felt the same just in a different way. A week and half later his sister called me and as soon as I heard her voice I knew it. Here it is three months to the day and I still can't get over it, I cry daily and I can't get him out ofmy head. I hate myself for not taking his illness seriously as I shoud have because I always thought he would be ok, he always was. Tommy was a survivor, but God had a different plan for him and he IS finally at peace. I do hate thatsaying,"He's finally at peace" but it does help me feel better sometimes. I went crazy for a little bit, tearing my house apart for anything I could find that could remind me of him. Luckily, I never throw anything out, so I do have memories. Me and Tommy's family have been keeping in touch, I try to but sometimes talking to them reminds me so much of him it hurts. I can't even hear the word heroin, or see someone on the street who is on it without getting upset. To grieve I try to believe that he is around me and I listen to music that he loved almost daily, it makes me feel better. And if I knew Tommy he would haunt me for the rest of my life, but in a good way.