He died before I ever got to say I'm sorry
He was one of my best friends in high school, but when he died 30 years later, I was still mad at him for betraying me
When I first got the news he had died, I was relieved.
He wouldn’t quit pestering me for money. Every few weeks he needed something new: $50 for work boots; $30 for a tool he has to have for a new job starting on Monday; $20 for gas for his van so he can get to the work site.
I loaned him some money the first couple times, but after that I got fed up, so I told I’m struggling too and I’m on disability and I just can’t afford to keep helping him out. Which was partially true — I was struggling. But if I had known how desperate he was, I could’ve given more.
I was tired of hearing him complain, though. His Facebook posts were so negative… talking all the time about, “I guess I’ll just leave this world, then..”
Like, dude, we get it already. Either do it… or stop complaining and just get on with your life.
I didn’t think he would actually do it, though.
When he did, I was just glad he wouldn’t be able to bug me anymore.
I should probably back up…
In November 2023, my friend Albert DeHerrera died from a suspected suicide attempt. He was in his mid-forties, living out of his van, struggling with addiction, and unable to hold down a job.
I don’t know how long he was living this way, because I’d broken off all contact with him in 1998.
He sent me a friend request on Facebook maybe a year or two before he died, which I grudgingly accepted… because we were once friends, before the incident… but I didn’t interact with his posts and I rarely answered his DMs.
Albert was one of my best friends all through high school. He was a funny guy, and he made everyone around him feel wanted, seen, and included. He was outgoing, talkative, entertaining, loud (in a good way), polite, encouraging, supportive… he really was a fantastic guy.
We started hanging out in ninth grade, around the time I really leaned hard into my stoner phase. Our mutual friend Lydia had a van that we’d all pile into each day on our off hour, and she’d drive all over and we’d just hang out and get into mischief.
(I lost my virginity in the back of that van… but that’s another story.)
Albert was a funny guy. Everybody liked him instantly. Him, Mike Young, and I used to walk home from school together almost every day, telling jokes, singing songs, talking smack… one time we pretended we were secret agents, and went on a mission at our local King Soopers to steal some sodas and a thing of cookie dough…
What can I say? Me and my homies were street thugs. 😂
Albert spent more nights at my house than I can count. We were thick as thieves for years… all throughout high school.
I met Catherine because of Albert. Well, Albert and Mike… but I’m certain Albert was the outgoing one, who approached her and her friends at Blockbuster, and came home with their phone numbers.
I’d stayed home — as I was apt to do at that point, on account of being heartbroken over losing Carrie.
To be honest, I was surprised when Albert told me they’d met some girls… and even more surprised when we all met up at Village Inn the next day, and the girls were cute. Not to talk trash about someone who’s dead, but I never thought Albert was much of a looker… and even though I knew he was popular, I never saw him as someone who knew how to get girls.
Moving on, though…
I felt an instant attraction to Catherine. And I found out later, once we started dating, that she had felt an instant attraction to me, as well. Not saying it was love at first sight; it wasn’t that strong a feeling. But looking at Catherine, talking to her, sitting close to her at breakfast… took my mind off of Carrie when nothing else could… so I pursued her relentlessly, until she finally gave in and agreed to be my girlfriend.
Catherine was great. Before we go any further, I have to tell you that Catherine really was wonderful to me. I just wasn’t ready to be wonderful to her, back. I wasn’t over Carrie. I still thought she was my only chance at happiness… and she was long gone.
And Catherine made me miss Carrie less.
But that alone wasn’t enough. I wasn’t ready to start something new with Catherine; not really. But I was willing to try and recreate, with her, what I wished I still had with Carrie.
I projected a lot of hopes, dreams, and frustrations, onto mine and Catherine’s relationship, that didn’t have to be there. They were holdovers from me and Carrie. They didn’t belong to me and Catherine at all. But I was 19 when we started dating, and I didn’t know I was hurting us both by trying to shape her into somebody else.
Had I known, I think I would’ve treated Catherine better than I did.
We had problems, like every relationship does, and I don’t think either one of us knew how to love, so we fought and we got mad at each other and we blamed the other person for everything. I think it got to where eventually, we both knew we were no good together… but I, at least, was addicted to her love — and maybe to the drama — and I was terrified of letting go, and losing “another perfect romance.”
I was so mean to her, though.
I was jealous, angry, possessive, insecure — probably emotionally abusive, if I’m honest. I used to tell her all the time that her friends were prettier than she was, and that I dreamed about breaking up with her and falling in love with her friend, Debbie.
Me and Catherine did horrible things to each other. But, truly, we were so young we didn’t know any other way. The whole time we were dating, I wanted Carrie. Not necessarily more than I wanted Catherine, but the wanting for Carrie never went away… and I’m certain that was the source of a lot of problems.
I felt like I was less of a man for losing Carrie, and I thought that winning her back was the only way I could ever be happy again. But I hated myself for kissing Lori right in front of her, and basically ending our relationship. I blamed myself for our breakup, and I thought it was my responsibility to suffer for hurting her.
I knew I couldn’t forgive myself for what I’d done.
I knew I was in the wrong.
I knew I’d ruined everything by kissing her best friend — even though it was a dare!
Looking back, I never should’ve done it. But also, looking back, I know Carrie and I wouldn’t have lasted in the long run, anyway.
But at the time, I just hated myself for losing the one girl I thought was destined to be my happily ever after… and I convinced myself I was so horrible that, even if I could have her back, I’d just ruin things all over again… so what’s the point of even trying?
I wanted her back — but I was convinced I didn’t deserve her. So instead, I tried to replace her.
I couldn’t talk about it with anybody, because I didn’t want anybody to know I’d done something so grievous to the poor, innocent, perfect girl I loved. I couldn’t get past it.
So, without meaning to, I took it all out on Catherine. I made every problem her fault, every blowup her responsibility. I closed my heart to her, because Carrie had devastated me and I never wanted that to happen again. I wouldn’t allow myself to connect emotionally with Catherine; it was far too frightening.
Still, the physical attraction between us was out of this world. I was hooked on her loving. Any time we got together, it was all I wanted from her. It was the only thing that could mask the pain in my heart over losing Carrie. The only thing that would let me forget, for a moment, how deeply wounded I was.
The only thing that would hide the shame and guilt I had inside, for treating Catherine so bad, and yet, being too much of a coward to admit I was doing her wrong, and just let her go.
We got engaged at one point.
Which was incredibly foolish and reckless of us. I couldn’t hold a job to save my life, and she had yet to finish high school. We had no plans for where we would live; no idea how we would support ourselves. We probably both knew it was a horrible idea and we didn’t really belong together…
But for me, at least, I was absolutely certain once we got married, she would magically become the woman I want, instead of the woman I was clinging to because I was too afraid to face my own pain, and the mistakes I’d made with Carrie, that I knew were wrong but I just wasn’t ready to deal with.
I knew that if Catherine would just do what I tell her to do… we would be happy.
I knew exactly the kind of relationship we could have…
And I knew it could only happen if I told her exactly how to behave when she was with me.
She wasn’t good enough for me the way she was… but if I could teach her… if I could guide her… if I could shape her into the woman I wanted her to be…
Everything would fall into place.
I was too young to know I was manipulating her and that trying to make her into somebody else would never make us happy.
I only wanted somebody who could love me the way I thought I needed to be loved.
I didn’t love her, though — not the way a woman needs or deserves to be. I only thought about myself and how I thought she could make me feel better.
I tried so hard to make Catherine into someone I could be happy with… and when that didn’t work, I fought with her and told her how all her friends were prettier than her and I wished I was with one of them.
And still, we had plans to get married. We chose a date. We started looking for a church. We booked a DJ.
I really believed once we were married, she would become someone who would make me happy.
But as the day drew near, we started fighting more… things got uglier between us… and to be honest I started to despise her for not being the woman I wanted her to be… and of course, I made it all about her. All our problems were her fault. If she would just listen to me and do everything I told her to do, we’d be the perfect couple.
I remember we were driving around the neighborhood — probably fighting about something — when she told me she wanted to break off the engagement.
I was stunned that she would do that! And I was panicking because, as bad as our relationship was, it protected me from having to face my feelings for Carrie. And I needed Catherine to protect me.
I needed her to love me, or else how was I ever going to love myself?
I knew it was my fault that Carrie left, and I knew I had to keep from losing Catherine, too, or it would just be more than I could bear.
All that changed when she told me why we were breaking up: she was sleeping with Albert.
I didn’t believe her at first. I thought for sure she was just saying that to hurt me. I thought that, even if she was, we could still somehow salvage our relationship, and she could still become the woman I wanted her to be. I pushed back against it all. I told her we could fix it.
But then she told me she wasn’t happy with me, and wanted to pursue things with Albert.
I was crushed. Despite all the ways I was doing her wrong, in my own mind Catherine was my girl. She obviously was making a mistake leaving me; I just had to show her that, and she would come right back. I went to her, on several occasions, thinking I was fighting for our love… and each time I did it only drove the wedge between us that much deeper.
I couldn’t believe Catherine would truly want another man besides me… so I told myself it was all Albert’s fault, that he must’ve seduced her somehow, that he probably told her a bunch of lies about me and that’s how he lured her away.
He was the one who betrayed me; not Catherine. He was supposed to be my friend, and yet, he went behind my back.
Catherine couldn’t help herself. Women are just weak like that, is what I told myself at the time. All she needed was for me to show her why I’m the better choice, and she’ll come running back into my arms and everything will go back to the way it was before.
Only, I knew that the way it was before had made both me and Catherine miserable. I knew we were better off going our separate ways; I just couldn’t bring myself to let go. I depended on her for just about everything by that point… I honestly didn’t believe I could survive without her attention.
I needed to believe that she still wanted me. That she only wanted me…
Looking back… I suspect there may have been a time in our relationship, early on, when she did want only me… but I never wanted only her… and it’s just not right to stay with somebody who’s not the only person you want to be with… it’s just not.
But it was hard for me to let her go. I’m not sure I ever did, fully, until after Albert died. I mean, I can hold onto a grudge anyway… but I really think getting PTSD only a few years after Catherine and I broke up, really made it harder for me to work through anything, and learn the lessons I need and reach the point where I can completely let go, and leave the past in the past. But I’m getting better, and in the end that’s what really matters…
That bastard Albert, though. He really ruined everything, going behind my back and stealing my girl right out from under me. I was supposed to be getting married! And instead I was tucking my tail between my legs and flying to Seattle to live with my aunt and uncle, and get as far away from Catherine as I possibly could.
I was so close to finally having my own family, like all my siblings… I was gonna have kids with her (and probably try to control their lives too, which would’ve been a disaster…) I was gonna be every bit as good and worthy of my parent’s approval as all my older brothers and sisters…
And yeah, I knew Catherine wasn’t Carrie (who I actually wanted to be married to), but in time, maybe she would be… and in the meantime, her sex was incredible… and I was young, and dumb enough to think somehow, that would sustain us.
Even though I knew she was somebody I didn’t want to be with anymore.
I knew I’d messed things up — and I knew I didn’t really want to marry her — but I was so convinced I couldn’t make it without her, I had to try and win her back. When she kept refusing my advances, I got angry, and I directed all my anger towards Albert.
I hated him for taking Catherine away from me. I felt betrayed. I wanted revenge. I wanted Albert to die.
A few months later, after deciding that life with my aunt and uncle in Seattle wasn’t all I thought it would be, I joined the Navy, and I didn’t see or hear from Catherine — or Albert — again.
And that was fine by me; I hated them both and I wanted them to suffer. For a long time, I despised Catherine. But also, whenever I thought about her I just got depressed, and I felt embarrassed and ashamed that I had lost her.
I couldn’t see that we were both better off for having broken up. All I saw was another relationship ruined. Another chance at happiness that I had sabotaged.
I hated myself because of it all…
And I guess it felt easier to keep hating Albert, than to look at the part I’d played, and the ways I had brought this suffering upon myself.
I still hated Albert, all those years later, when he friended me on Facebook. I didn’t want to accept his request. I didn’t want to hear from him. I didn’t want him in my life, at all.
But…
Once upon a time, we were good friends. So, I accepted, and I allowed him to message me and ask for money, ask for support… and I sent him money a few times before I told him I couldn’t afford anymore… and I read his posts about suicide, and feeling hopeless, and lonely, and wanting to give up.
But I was still so bitter. I had so much resentment towards him and Catherine, both, and I wanted to pin it all on Albert, and just be mad at him forever.
And then he died, and as horrible as this sounds, when I first heard the news, I was relieved. I didn’t mourn his passing. I didn’t attend his funeral. I didn’t really react at all when I found out.
It didn’t feel like I’d lost a lifelong friend at that point; he was merely someone I used to know, 30 years ago in high school. I was sorry he was gone and I guess it was tragic, but it didn’t impact my life, so whatever… I’m sorry he was gone but it didn’t really hurt me…
But a year later, in December 2024, I was out walking through my neighborhood, and out of nowhere it hit me that my friend Albert DeHerrera was gone, and I’ll never see him again…
And I never got to tell him I’m sorry.
I lost it, then and there. I started sobbing on the street corner. I messaged Catherine (we’d reconnected as friends several years prior, and in fact, she was the one who told me Albert had died).
I told her how much I missed him, and loved him, and if I had known, I would’ve been so much kinder to him when he asked me for help. But now, there’s nothing I can do, but just miss my old friend and regret that I was too angry and too stubborn to ever patch things up.
Catherine reassured me that he knew I loved him and he talked about me and his other high school friends all the time, and that helped to put my mind at ease… but it can’t change the fact that my friend is gone, and I missed out on almost 30 years of friendship with him because I was so mad…
And I still owe him the world’s biggest apology for holding onto it all and allowing it to destroy our friendship.
I can understand the way I responded to him and Catherine in the moment… when I was 21 and much less aware than I am now… but that moment was so long ago… I never meant to stay mad at him for so many years.
I’m not naive enough to think if I’d treated him differently, it would’ve saved his life. Nor do I believe that my bitterness and my callousness at the end pushed him over the edge. I think he most likely would’ve overdosed, no matter what.
I do wish, though, that I would’ve forgiven everything before he died. I wish I would’ve asked him and Catherine to forgive me, long, long ago… and at least tried to salvage my friendship with Albert.
(I’m grateful that me and Catherine can be friends, today… but my friendship with Albert, back in the day, was like… next level… and now it’s all gone and there’s nothing I can do about it.)
I wish I could’ve shown him more kindness… more love… more friendship… before losing him forever.
I wish I would’ve told him I was sorry.
Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything.
But at least, he would’ve known.