I remember reading the text...way before texting was so popular. I remember not being able to process what it said and not being able to cry...because I couldn't process it. I remember a few hours later sitting in my car in front of my house reading the text again...and again...and again. I remember an excessive amount of calls breaking through my phone as I was reading the text...again...and again...and again. A friend of his showed up at my house. I remember him explaining all the details that he knew but still...couldn't process it. Still couldn't cry. I watched some tv, read a few chapters of a book, ignored my phone which had vibrated so much that it had fallen on the floor and then I went to sleep.
The next memory I have is 3am...I remember getting up to use the bathroom and then...devastation. I started to cry and I couldn't pull it together. I stayed in the bathroom...crying...for over an hour. I had now totally processed what had happened. Gino was dead. I went to my phone and went through my call log. I had spoken to him at 9:03am that morning. He had just gotten out of the hospital and wanted me to come see him at his mom's. I said, "I'll come by later". Later was too late. I checked my voicemail, skipping through all the "Mo, I'm so sorry"..."Mo, what happened?"..."Are you ok?"...etc. I was looking for the last message he'd left me saying to call him, it was an emergency. I remembered that I'd gotten the message but I'd never called him back. The message was gone...it had been over a month ago. I cried some more. Then I went back to that state of not being able to process it again...to be continued
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