Baby Narwhal
From Chae, 2023.
He passed away on March 7th, 2025.
Monday, March 17
I can’t remember the last time I cried so hard, or felt sadness so physically. It was like saying goodbye at summer camp, knowing you’ll probably never see each other again - except this time, I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I want to believe he’s still out there somewhere, just somewhere I can’t reach.
You passed while I was packing to move away from LA - the city I’ve called home for the past 3 years. The restaurant where we had our last meal together closed down. I burned through the candle you gave me already. You said I could clean it and use it as a margarita glass, so I tried doing that. I broke it because I forgot I couldn’t put hot water in an ice-cold glass. You would’ve 100% called me an idiot.
I opened my Bluetooth settings today and saw your AirPods still in my list of devices. My album also really likes showing me our old photos. Maybe it knows something.
Earlier this week, I tried to light my candle. My lighter died, so I reached for the matchbox for the first time after you passed. There were only three left, and I couldn’t bring myself to use them. I felt like The Little Match Girl.
Also found this silly little children’s book you gave me while packing.
It still doesn’t feel real.
I’ve wanted to write something since then, but words have always felt wrong, or maybe too small. It’s probably the deepest grief I’ve ever experienced, but part of me also felt I didn’t have the right to. The last time I saw you was in 2023. I told you I’d visit again, but I never did. We went to a rave together - you were never the rave kind - and it turned out to be one of the best, most memorable of my life. Maybe you were my lucky charm.
“He was kind, funny, caring, thoughtful, and selfless - more than I will ever be.”
I hate that I have to talk about you in the past tense.
︎︎︎Back