BABYBOP
je suis un bébé requin,
and this is a photo journal of a previous life.
lundi 7 mars 2011
My First Love.


I met my first love in the summer of 2004-2005. The first time i met him, he asked if i wanted dinner, he talked about far away lands of America, and how he would have done things different if he ran the country.

He made me fall in love with me. It wasn't anyone's fault. We went to the movies, the first french movie i watched at the cinema: Ocean's 12. We went ice skating with his friends, and laughed together all the time. I taught him things about Australia, and I learnt things about France.









In the last days of my travels to france, he surprised me with a card and a small teddy bear, and a personal joke inside. I thought he was the most romantic person i had ever met, but what was i to know, i was young.

I felt as though i had learnt to really love someone for the first time, and when i came home from the distant land of France, I promised i would return one day to love him once again.

Things fizzled out gradually, just as long distant relationships do... We sent a few emails, keeping each other up to date, and chatting on the internet from time to time. I would send him french essays to correct, and he told me how he had become a sailing instructor for young kids.

By the time i had hit university, the degree i had chosen, entailed me to pick a country. I was throwing up between France and Italy, in the back of my head, i would go back to this far away land, and love him once more, but at the same time, i was realistic, and knew that that first love, was from many years before that. I ended up choosing France anyway, as i had already came so far learning the language and culture.

In late 2009, I was told that i would be spending a year abroad in the city of Strasbourg, in the east of France. I was not that excited, as my preferences had been Bordeaux, Lyon, and Strasbourg, in that order, Bordeaux was of course, closer to him. By the luck of the draw, I was given Strasbourg, and i guess it was a sign.





On arrival, i was surprised at how much i loved strasbourg, at the hidden gem that i had found. I didn't think i would have as much fun as i did last year, and with that, i decided to stay another 6 months in Strasbourg.

Last year, for my first love's 22nd birthday, he invited me and a few of his friends down to his holiday house in Oleron. I took 10 hours of trains to get there, and i was so excited to see him. A friend of his picked me up from Angouleme, and we travelled down together in the car, to Oleron. I had curled my hair, prettied my face up and was shaking terribly when i met him again for the first time in years. He said to me:

"It's been so long, i am glad to see you, what's it been 5 years?"

and i felt like i was falling for him all over again. At the same time, i knew it was nostalgia of previous times, but all the same, i looked up to him and feelings came rushing over me all over again.

We had the weekend of our lives, doing simple things: making crepes, playing cards, watching TV and just talking about life. On the train home, i wrote pages about the weekend, and remembered how much i used to love him.



Just before the summer holidays, i invited a friend to come and hang out in Oleron with me and my first love. She accepted, and although the weather was awful all weekend, we enjoyed pizza and fries inside the house, and snuggled in bed watching movies. The last movie i ever watched with him was Food Inc.

We went to the beach, his favourite place, and found some carts to play around on. He taught me how to sail, and that afternoon, we went for a ride out on his boat.

We had such a great time together, and he said he promised he would visit me back in Strasbourg, seeing as i was there for another 6 months.

He kissed me for the last time at 5am, seeing me off on a train back to Strasbourg.









In late january, he told me he was going to visit me, but was held up in Lyon for the weekend, so we promised to make plans for later on in the year.

On the 17th February, he told me that he would be passing by Troyes, a city that was apparently close to me, to pick up some boats for his club. I looked it up, and Troyes was closer to Paris, than it was, Strasbourg. I mentioned that to him, yet he promised he would be visiting me anyway, and to have my phone on me. That was 3 weeks ago. That was the last time i spoke to him.

On sunday morning, i had just arrived back from the snow from the week with my friends, and had received a few emails from friends that i had met through First Love, saying to contact them asap. I gave them my phone number, thinking that they were all going to finally come to Strasbourg for the weekend, and i was a little sad, as they had sent those emails on the Thursday and Friday, and i would have missed them, as the weekend was over.

One of his friends, Le Jar, finally got in contact with me on the Sunday afternoon, at about midday. When he told me who it was, two things went through my head,
1. they might be organising a surprise party for First Love, but that was impossible, his birthday is the 19th January
2. he's dead.

Both were probably wrong, but as i listened to what Jar had to say, my stomach felt sick. "Francie, i have some news about Yann. He was driving home from La Rochelle to Oleron on Tuesday night, and crashed. He is now dead"

At that time, i was sitting in a room surrounded by friends, and i didn't know what to do. We were supposed to go out to Lunch, but i excused myself, and took a long walk home.

That afternoon, i sat by the river and wept. I was in shock, and i just wanted to cry my heart out. Cry 'til my eyes wouldn't provide me with anymore tears. Cry until he came back to life. Through my tears, I wrote a letter to him, but i knew he wasn't going to get it. I wrote, asking him to come back, to tell me that everyone was lying. That really, he was driving up to see me at that very moment, but i knew it wasn't true.

When i arrived home, i had received an email from First Love's sister.

"Sorry to tell you by the facebook way but we didn't have any other way to contact you.
Wednesday morning we learned a terrible news, Yann died.

He had a car accident and felt into the harbour of LA ROCHELLE with his car at 2 am. Nobody has heard him, so the policemen discovered him into the sea a few hours later ( at around 11 am).

We made the funeral yesterday. He has been buried at Grand-Village (Oleron Island).

C'etait pas sur une route mais sur un parking à coté du port. Il a perdu le contrôle de sa voiture qui est tombée dans l'eau. C'était la nuit, personne ne l'a vu ni entendu, il s'est noyé...

Best regards

Natacha"



Last night, i cried myself to sleep, and listened to Do You Remember by Jack Johnson. I held my pillow tight, pretending that he was there with me.

Today, i wrote him an email, knowing that he wasn't going to receive it. I called his mobile again and again, just to listen to his voice one more time on voice mail.

I know that everyone has a time to die, but i felt like i was still supposed to have time with him. He was supposed to visit me, we were supposed to go out and have fun together for the weekend. We were supposed to climb the Cathedrale of Strasbourg, and have a fancy lunch together.

I think about the friends that knew him better than i did, that spent years getting to know him. I have only known him for 6 years, but for those that knew him better than me, i wonder how they are coping. Are they writing through tears, on their blogs too? Are they being men, and trying to hold composure, or are they simply denying the fact that they too, will never be able to see him again.

Now, i feel guilty enjoying things, i look at food, and it makes me feel sick, i feel weak, and shudder at people laughing. I wonder if anyone has ever been this sad, whether people can relate to this pain i am feeling.
Someone, please, hide me under the covers, and warm my heart up again.

This is a dream, isn't it? Someone, tell me this is a dream. I am sure that it is. I don't, wont, can't, believe it.
I will learn to laugh again, to smile again, but you will always have a piece of me.







My first love will always hold a place in my heart.

Now i ask myself, how something that he loved so much, was his demise. He lived for sailing, for the water, for the beach, yet when it came down to it, this was the natural disaster that killed him.

These photos are the last ones i took with him, June 2010.

Yann, my first love, i am sorry i didn't know about your funeral. I am sorry that i didn't live closer to you last year, and this.
I am sorry for not hanging out with you more, for not dying in that car with you. I hope that one day, it is all a dream, and that i wake up and you're alive, lying next to me. You will stroke my hair, and tell me that it was all just a bad dream.
Rest in Peace, in Oleron, the Island that you loved so much, surrounded by the sounds of the sea, and sand that will warm your toes.

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merci beaucoup pour votre commentaire..