Ohad Oren

Ohad Oren. Brootlyn Zu.

I feel real regret, maybe for the first time in my selfish life. Silence never bothered me, but it was hard for you.

I knew over a week ago, like something was off, the air was different. Strange Currencies always makes me think of you. It’s why I looked you up two years ago, The Bear. 

So many things remind me of you.

I wondered what you thought about a million things. And I missed you by a week, can you believe it?

I didn’t know about your grandfather all those years ago. You should have told me. I didn’t know, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.

I should have replied to your email, but I thought that things hadn’t fundamentally changed, even though I still felt that pull. We were still living in different countries with very different lives; you with young children (I can’t imagine how they feel now, heartbroken).

I understand how my lack of response was a knife and why you did what you did. It was diabolical and I couldn’t even think about it for a while. 

I get it now, though. All’s fair.

You hurt me. Pride, injured feelings, stubbornness kept us apart when we should have always remained best friends. 

I wish you’d apologised or explained, or even tried to. You were always my favourite person and we shared something extraordinary. Half a brain, even. 

I just figured you were on your path and I was on mine, you know? That they’d converge later.

Life happened and I got my shit together. I moved cities, got a new job, made new friends. Grew potatoes and raised a baby seagull that fell off my roof. Became close with a former oncologist named Liz Whipp. I told her I wanted to break into the colosseum and have it to myself when I visited Italy and she said I should dance naked under the stars.

She died last year and left me with her dog, Lily. My other best friend who now licks the tears from my cheeks. I’ve always wanted a dog but never felt ready. Forced my hand like you should have done.

My mum got cancer over lockdown, and I couldn’t visit. Then she got dementia. She set her kitchen on fire, and we had to have cameras installed to watch her. Then we had nurses, day and night. She was in and out of hospital, and when I hugged her goodbye last January, I could feel every bone in her back.

Then she died this March, and I’m an orphan now with half a property in Barbados that I don’t want to sell, because my dad built it.

I invited you there once, long ago. Why didn’t we go? Ah yes, I uninvited you in a panic.

Spite holiday moon understood and even appreciated… br00tyl.

And now you. 

What happened? I wondered if I made the whole brutal thing up. Sandals and a #livelaughlove life for hardcore Brootlyn Zu? The very opposite of what I am and who I knew you to be. But I did mean it. I wished you happiness, even at my expense. I left you alone and respected your choices (this is a lie).

What was I meant to do? Have a bad time just to please you?

#misunderstoodlyrics

There was never any apathy or indifference, I didn’t stop caring and I hate that you might have thought I did. I just had to keep myself safe. I suppose you liked things your way, and I did the same.

I just thought there’d be time to fix ‘the fix’, eventually.

I’ll listen to all the music you sent me and cry over what could have been if we’d both done better. I never deleted all our conversations, years of them, so I’ll revisit when I’m in a better place and finally reread all your witty words.

Maybe I did miss something? You always said I would. And now I’ll be haunted by red porsches and lone magpies forever. You’d like that.

I love you and I’m eternally grateful for our time together (this is the truth).

Your mate, always.

Laura

P.S. Why couldn’t I have sent this sooner? I wish… I could go back and redo the whole thing.

P.P.S. When someone dies, I think you carry a part of them with you and I will.

O.P.P.S. This is how I’d like to remember you, surfing in Mexico. Five years before we met.