I met H 16 years ago while visiting my friend at her school. We hit it off, partied all night and slept together. From that night on we had this deep friendship that I know I’ve never had before and I’ll never find again in this life. We’d see each other occasionally, and if we were both single, we’d hook up, but it wasn’t about that.

Our mutual friends eventually had a falling out, my girl friend had dated his best friend and it ended in an explosive mess the way only first loves can. But H and I stayed in touch.

You see, with H I didn’t have to translate myself, he spoke my language. I told him everything about myself. Every dark secret, every bad thought, every fear and he told me his. We’d sometimes go periods without talking, one of us would get a new job or new partner and get busy with life and you know how it goes. But, it didn’t matter. We’d get back in touch and it was like no time had passed. No explanation was ever needed for anything, I could call him and not say anything after a month of not speaking and he’d know if I was having a panic attack. I didn’t have to pretend. I was profoundly me with him in a way I never was before and since him.

I’m not sure it was a romantic love, or at least not in the way I’ve had with partners. It was different, deeper. And i don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain it.

Four years ago, I sent H a message. And he didn’t answer. I didn’t think much of it although it was unusual. I tried again a bit later, tried calling and nothing. I kept trying over the past four years, the frequency going down as the time with no response lengthened. I thought he had ghosted me. I should have known after 12 years of our friendship that wasn’t a possibility. I hate myself for thinking that all this time.

Tonight I decided to Google him. I don’t know why I hadn’t yet honestly. Right there, first search results, his obituary.

He had epilepsy and it killed him. And I didn’t know for four years.