My Way

Last night was one of those that gets all weird and introspective. For me, the lyrics to Frank Sinatra;s "My Way" resonate here. It's how I do and try to live my life. But sometimes it feels as though someone, or something has other ideas...

Last night involved discussion of missed opportunities, lost friendships and lost friends.and it led me to reflect on why certain people meet, and at what time or stage in their lives they meet. One of the most special people I'm eternally grateful to have had in my life is a guy I met during First year of my undergraduate degree. My lively, friendly (gorgeous) and vivacious friend I met during O week turned up one lunch time with him in tow. I confess to an enormous crush. Huge. We had classes together, but as it transpired, we spent most of out week together, and with others at the pub, sitting in the beer garden with the chickens scratching around our feet..This went on all year. Often just the two of us in the winter months. Fast forward  - I had taken the next year off, and all kinds of friendships and structures changed. We met up again unexpectedly in another class together.Again back to hanging out, but the dynamics of me being in a relationship and all the other pressures of work, study etc changed - the crush still remained! We caught up intermittently over the following year, more often in a campus cafe rather than the pub. And then he was gone.

When my long term relationship, which had lasted all through Uni  faltered under the pressure of changing lives and my notions that it was either time to take the nest step or part, a friend with whom decided I needed a proper night out on the town to bolster my spirits. The Espy was heaving, and over the pool table at the back, was my first year crush. After delighted reunion I was drunk enough to tell him that I'd always had a crush on him. He laughed and asked why I had never told him. I responded that I thought it was my friend he'd liked. He looked at me gravely with those brilliant blue eyes and shook his head and told me, "No, It was never her.".When I realised what he meant, I could have swooned. The thought of what might have been flitted through my head. He who knew me so well understood exactly what I was thinking. He  suggested that we might make up for lost time. It was awesome, but fleeting - he moved back to WA where he'd been working in mines in the intervening years, and I was ok with that.

The next time we saw each other was at the airport - I was heading off on a work trip and he was returning to Melbourne as he'd landed a construction job. We had five minutes to exchange numbers and arrange to catch up. It never happened. When I think about how I found out he'd died, I still cry - I couldn't believe a,) that he was dead, and b) it had taken me so long to find out. We'd always been remiss about keeping in contact, and until recently because of my lifestyle and work commitments had never kept up with the news and current affairs.  I was sitting on the 6th floor of the Raymond Priestly building, having morning tea at my desk. It was awful, We had the radio on in the background, and I still cannot believe the synchronicity of my browsing the paper, turning the page and seeing his face, while his voice, the OOO call he'd made as he drowned was broadcast as a report on the Coroner's Inquest into his, and another man's death. As horrible, horrible accident. Why do such things happen to such wonderful people?

"Regrets, I've had a few, but then, too few to mention". I don't regret anything about knowing this awesome person, I wish his death had not been so painful, and so frightening and so alone, but I celebrate that I got to share some time with him, and I wouldn't change any of it. Especially not the time we spent together at the pub, in tutes, and in our reunion phase before he headed back out west. But I still can't drive through the Domain Tunnel. Not without hearing his wonderful laugh, and then the haunting pain and fear as he drowned in a drill hole during the creation of CitiLink.