Matt and Brady in the fall of 2009. I left him the spring after, and took the dog. Our life together wasn’t easy, but we had some good times, too. Quite a few, really, and it’s a shame that the bad usually overshadows the good. I haven’t seen him in three years, and though he tried to contact me a few times, we haven’t talked either. I’m bumbling, but the point is that he shot himself at our old house on Monday. Maybe I gave up any right to be sad about it when I walked away, and every time I’ve described him as an asshole to people in the meantime, but fuck it, I’m sad anyway.