I was 16 when I met Dean, a friend of a friend. He soon became a regular in among our group of friends and that’s how it remained for a while. I secretly fancied him but never thought anything would come of it.
He was 19, a really good looking lad, had a job and even though he was fairly quiet, was very popular.
What would he want with a 16 year old school girl?
To my amazement, he asked me out, I was over the moon.
We got on so well and soon became inseparable. All my family thought he was great even with the age difference, although I got the very stern birds and the bee’s talk.
I got on really well with his mum and brothers and became part of the furniture in their home. His mum would introduce me to people as the daughter she never had.
A few months into the relationship, things started to become a little suffocating. Every spare minute we would be together and felt I was losing my identity, friends became people I would acknowledge in passing.
I was booked to go away to France with my friend from school and her parents in a couple of weeks and it was causing issues between us.
I could understand when he said he’d miss me when I would be away, but it was for 2 weeks not months. He then started with the he thought I’d meet someone else blah blah blah.
I was sick of listening to the same thing over and over again, I realised if it carried on I was going to have to end things between us.
I didn’t want too, I loved him but he was leaving me no choice.
As usual, one night just 2 days before I was due to go away, he came to my house. He was in a terrible mood. The conversation soon turned to my holiday again.
Then came the ultimatum ‘If you go then were over.’ he said.
I never expected him to say it. I tried to talk to him, explained that it wasn’t for long, I loved him and wasn’t interested in meeting anyone else, if he loved me like he said he did then he would trust me and wait for the 2 weeks and be happy for me.
No, he stood by his decision. We were over.
I cried so hard, how could he just throw us away?
I even thought about cancelling my holiday, make up an excuse I was ill or something.
I spoke to my mum about it. She said that he was just scared of losing me, being daft, he would come round and suggested I talk to his mum, so I did. She said the same thing so I felt a bit better.
I went away with my friend, missed him like mad but realised who I was again, had fun being the 16 year old girl I was without the constant pressure of being in a full on relationship and kind of came to the conclusion maybe us breaking up was for the best.
He would find someone else his own age that was ready to give him what he wanted. Although the thought of him being with someone else pulled at my heart I knew I couldn’t go back to how it was.
The 2 weeks went so fast, before I realised it we were on our way home. I felt refreshed, alive again. My thoughts turned to Dean. Had he met someone else?
Did he still hate me for leaving him?
I’d been home for just over an hour when there was a knock at the door, Dean.
He stood there crying, telling me how much he’d missed me, loved me so much and never wanted to spend any time away from me again and wanted us to be together again.
That old feeling of suffocation rose in my throat, I was scared. I loved him but didn’t feel ready to have that same relationship with him again. I was me again. Why couldn’t we just go back to how it was in the beginning?
Fun, care free and enjoying each other’s company.
I tried to explain how I felt and how I didn’t want to go back to how it was, that I wanted more time with my friends, us all together. I had my exams to think of too.
I couldn’t spend all my time with him. It just made him cry more. Two hours we spent talking on my doorstep but he still couldn’t or wouldn’t understand.
Why can’t he just listen?
I loved him but I just want him to take his foot off the gas.
Eventually he said ‘Well if I can’t make you realise I love you then there’s no point me standing here’. Obviously my words had fallen on deaf ears, he just didn’t want to listen!
That night I laid in bed thinking, why won’t he listen?
If I mean that much then any time is better than none at all surely? It was really good to see him, I didn’t feel any different now to what I did before I went but I knew I’d changed. Hopefully he would come around when he thought about what I’d said earlier.
The next morning there was a knock on the door, it was Dean’s mum. I opened it, she stood there in tears, looking exhausted. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
She threw her arms around me and nearly fell to the floor, for a few minutes I couldn’t make sense of what she was saying.
Just ramblings beneath sobs and then screaming.
I too was in tears by then, I didn’t even know why.
All of a sudden she stopped, looked me in the eyes and said the words ‘Dean took an over dose, he loved you so much. I needed to tell you’.
I couldn’t take it in, was this a sick joke to get me back for not getting back with him? My punishment? By now my mum was stood by my side.
I could hear the words ‘took tablets, Steve (his brother) found him, ambulance, coma’.
It hit me like a steam train, my punishment but no joke.’ NO’ I screamed, I was hysterical.
When I calmed a little his mum explained that he’d gone home, had some beans on toast and told his brother that he was going to bed.
The next they knew he’d heard some bangs from upstairs so he ran up, found Dean laying on the floor having a fit. He shouted his mum and then rang for an ambulance.
He was now in the hospital in a coma after he had took an overdose. It was surreal.
They found he’d taken 170 Paracetamol after writing a letter explaining why he felt he had to leave this world because it was ‘shit’.
I went to see him.
Tubes and machines were everywhere. He didn’t look any different, just dark around his eyes. I spent most of my time there by his side, crying, talking to him, telling him off for not listening to me, to get out of this bed and let us sort it out.
Nothing, after a few more days the doctors had conducted tests and the results were in.
He was officially brain dead, only the machines were keeping him alive.
I was lost, my Dean, gone. No he can’t be! I was hysterical again.
The decision was made by his mum to turn his machines off the next morning. I went and held his hands, kissed him, told him I loved him. I never got a reply. He died four days short of his 20th birthday.
Such a waste of life, a fantastic young man with everything to live for and someone that was loved so very much.
He took an overdose and died and broke my heart.
I just wish he had realised how much when he was here.
Rest in peace Dean, true love never dies.
Forever loved and never forgotten. 1975 – 1995
This blog post was written anonymously and submitted to me to share here on the blog with the hope that by sharing their own experiences they will go on to help others. Why not share your story or experience anonymously with us?