Dave

Still reeling from tremendous shock and devastation after stumbling upon the top Google hit for Dave: his obituary. I felt sick as my gaze landed on the date of his death. September. These past seven months he hasn’t been MIA because he was indisposed– he was dead. Nobody from his family told me. That ugly truth haunts me.

David Ratcliff was my ex-boyfriend. Not just any ex but “my favorite ex” we joked. Our relationship remains one of the most significant ones of my adult life. He was the first person I got involved with after returning home from California. We debuted as a couple during the summer of 2013 and stayed together for approximately a year and a half. Our mutual demon eventually tore us apart. Yet the deep respect we had for one another combined with our solid foundation of friendship allowed us to continue as platonic friends. And he was definitely one of my closest. Dave consistently proved his loyalty and would give me the shirt off his back even if he had no clothes. To think that he was able to be such a top-notch friend while simultaneously suffering from severe, debilitating autoimmune disorders and addiction blows my mind.

I’m broken. 💔 Damaged, but not destroyed. 🖤Yet I wonder how much more of these breaks I must endure….haven’t we had enough already?

Over the last few days I could barely contain the overflow of ideas and insatiable desire to write as quickly as possible. All that came to a screeching halt with the news of Dave. I just can’t find words right now. I’m hurting and for the sake of my mental health [and giving important pieces the reference they deserve] refuse to rush myself.

On a final note, I appreciate everyone who has reached out to check on me. But I don’t want to talk about it. Grief for me is a deeply intimate, personal process. Be respectful of my coping mechanisms.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

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About Cocktails With Hemingway

I'm blunt and opinionated. Virtually everything I say or do is a contradiction but I'm not a hypocrite. I never hesitate to speak my mind and never fail to leave an impression wherever I go. You love me, you hate me, but you'll never forget me.
This entry was posted in * R. i. P. *, Da Real Homiez, Death, Z. Bookmark the permalink.

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