This week I found out an old boyfriend of mine died last year. I hadn’t seen him for a while, and we had no shared friends, so I found out through facebook, of all things. It’s an odd thing to have known someone well, and then spent a whole year thinking they were alive when they weren’t.
I remember meeting you on a sunny day. You made me dinner and carved a tomato into a heart shape.
A spider ran across the bed. I remember you telling me you’d put it out of the window. I knew you were lying.
I remember playing trivial pursuit in our flat with the horrid pink leather sofa. The games were long – both of us were rubbish at general knowledge. I remember spending time in the video shop, but I don’t remember anything we watched. We ate out a lot, but I only remember one restaurant. I don’t know what we talked about when we were at home.
I have a picture of you feeding some geese, but I don’t remember taking it, or where we were.
We kept in touch for a while, then drifted apart. I know now that you were engaged to someone else.
I told you I’d finally finished my PhD. I thought it would make you laugh, since you were there at the start and thought it would go on forever. You never replied. I hope you laughed anyway.
You told me the song you wanted at your funeral. I never told anyone else – did you?