Well, this is a slightly unusual blog entry, even for me. It
might be a little more dismal than my other blogs, and a hell of a lot shorter, but I think it’s only fair
you still see it out. The past three weeks have seen my entire world change. Losing a friend who had been lying to me for
months, then losing a friend who had been nothing but a perfect gentleman to
not just me, but to everyone he met.
The break up came as a complete shock to me. At first, I thought
my world was over. I remember thinking to myself, how can everyone just carry
on as normal when it felt as though my world had come to a standstill. As
though I was literally grieving. Then, and surprisingly, it only took two
weeks, but I realised that what I had thought to be perfection was all in my
head. Even the people who treat you nicely, say all the right things and make
you smile like no one has before have the capability of crushing you.
It’s weird because everyone’s natural reaction when they
heard the news was to tell me to write a play about it and make a shit load of
money, but the truth is, I’ve got writers block at the moment. You might find
that hard to believe, and to be honest, maybe it’s just a cop out, but I just don’t
feel like I have it in me at the moment to write fiction. Perhaps it’s because my
own life has felt somewhat like a soap opera for the past three weeks. Any fiction
that I wrote would undoubtedly pale in comparison to The Emily Chriscoli Show.
Once I had realised that I genuinely was worth more – and I don’t
just mean the usual spiel of your mates texting you to say “you’re ten times
better than that”, “you’ll find someone who actually deserves you”, and my
personal post break up pet hate, “there’s plenty more fish in the sea” – I’m
talking about actually casting my mind back to things that had been said and
done in the last year and thinking, no. Hang on a minute. I’m not a bad person.
Therefore, I should be feeling
relief. I shouldn’t be feeling as though I’ve lost something special, because if a person really is that special, and if someone really is that good a person,
they wouldn’t abuse your trust and shatter your self confidence like that.
As soon as this hit me, I began to feel okay. Understandably,
I was still sad. I felt out of routine. A little bit lost. But I was beginning
to get my spark back. It was during this time that I learnt the sad news of the
death of a good friend of mine. Twenty three years old, a university graduate,
the world at his feet. He had fallen asleep and never woken up. It seems
unfair, cruel almost, to wish this on another person, but it feels even
crueller that it should happen to Kyle. He was one of life’s good guys. And I mean,
genuine good guys. From helping you to walk home from a night out when your
feet are in tatters, to getting up early to secure tickets to a TV show for
you, and everything in between.
I first met Kyle at Edge Hill University in our very first
drama lesson with Lisa and Ron. We were all stood round in a circle, nervously
giving little glances at one another and generally coming to accept that these
slightly exuberant characters were to be our classmates and our neighbours for
the following three years. Kyle was wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt and
baggy black trousers, which he’d rolled up to the knees. When we learnt the
soul destroying news that we had to perform barefoot, everyone started whinging
but Kyle, full of beans and enthusiasm, whipped his socks off, rolled them into
a ball and threw them to the other side of the room. He got stuck in.
Over the three year degree, we chose similar modules. Both of
us were keen playwrights and would email each other drafts of scripts that we
were writing, then pretend to be surprised the following day in our Script
Writing class when we had to read them aloud to the group. He would always show
up at parties, often with a crate or two of beer, and would generally be one of
the last ones to call it a night. Outside of university life, we were quite
similar, and booked tickets to go and watch The Jeremy Kyle Show live in
Manchester together with a few of our friends. Kyle was the sort of person who
you could go a few weeks over the summer holidays without speaking to and when
you were reunited the following September, it was as though nothing had
changed. You could literally pick up where you left off. Always smiling, ever
the joker, everybody knew Kyle Gardner, and more importantly, everybody liked
him.
The world has truly lost a character and the sky gained a
star.
It was interesting because just days before his death, Kyle
had messaged me in an attempt to cheer me up about the break up. He started off
with a rap, “I like Chriscoli and I cannot lie”, and then told me something,
which I will take to the grave with me. He said, “It could be worse. You could
be dead.” Then a few days later, I discover he has passed away. Now, you might
find that spooky – unbelievable, maybe – but if you knew Kyle, you would know that he
would be roaring with laughter at his final witty remark.
With hindsight, what he said was true. I can’t think of
anything worse than your life being cut short when you’re still trying to find
your feet. The sad thing is, in my twenty three years on this planet, I’ve known
so many young people to die – nearly all of them involved in the Performing
Arts in some way or another. Lives taken far too soon. Naturally, it makes you
think about your own future, but it also leads to you wondering what they would
be doing if they were still here. Would Dominique be a professional dancer?
Would Luke be producing plays? Would Kyle be planning his next stand up
routine?
So, no, it’s not the countless texts, phone calls and hugs from
people telling me that everything will be okay and that everything happens for
a reason. It’s not the copious glasses of wine I’ve consumed, or the six pairs
of shoes I’ve treated myself to. It’s not even the thought of proving that I am worthwhile or to try and make the ex
realise what he’s lost. It’s the fact that we don’t know what the future holds.
You might think you’ve got everything sorted, then go to sleep after a long day
at work, feeling content and never wake up again. As frightening as that thought is, it's also very true, and sadly, very realistic. It’s important for me, now
more than ever, to grit my teeth, knuckle down and get on with it. It is going to happen for me, but only if I
pull my socks up and work my backside off for it.
As I'm sure you all know, when someone dies, it sort of becomes the norm for people to place
them on a pedestal and make out that they were a straight A student, a model
citizen and a true asset to the community. The truth is, when Kyle died, nobody
needed to pretend that he was amazing. We all already knew it.
