A tribute to Lyle Joshua Eyden

“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times”- A tale of two shitty people.

Our last conversation replays in my head, unceremoniously.

I never thought he would die, regardless of the many times I enquired by him when he was actually going to kill himself.

Most of our conversations were dirty. Pickled with profanities that would make a sailor cringe.

But he loved me, and I loved him.

The irony that he was stabbed in the heart has not been lost on me.

Now, bear in mind… The screwdriver that took the life of Lyle Eyden went into his chest, and may as well have penetrated mine. I felt those repeated jabs as I read the message from his mother, even more unceremoniously on my Whatsapp.

 

“Shana, I just thought I should tell you, Lyle was killed this morning”.

 

My only response was…

 “No”.

Rose was giggling somewhere in the background, and when it dawned on me that at some point I would have to have another “Why don’t I have a daddy?” conversation again…. With my second child…..my brain shut down all functions…

I saw myself in the past.

I saw myself in the future.

“…Because, Rose… Your father loved you. He was just a damaged soul….”

Now, I know what you are thinking… Why is this bitch hurt? She always said the meanest things.

And this is accurate, though my words were not so much as mean as they were true.

Lyle hit me.

He hurt me.

He cheated on me and lied and humiliated me.

 

But, when it was good… It was magnificent.

And I never wanted him to die.

At least, not the way he did.

He died terrified.

He died alone.

And I know, as he laid there bleeding, in the bushes… he died thinking of Rosie.

And he died thinking of me.

….

“Hi Shana”

“Hi Lyle. I am at work at the moment I cannot really speak.”

“I just wanted to say Boney died”.

“Oh no, I am sorry”.

“Yeah it’s kak heavy… the mense in the village is just dying…”

I really couldn’t speak at work. And I didn’t want to.

“You had a lekker bra on when you came to my house ne?”

And I remember for the first time in a year, I blushed.

“Shut up Lyle. Your Girlfriend was there”.

“Ja I know, I am just saying man. But please rather don’t look so lekker again. Reminds me of the old times”.

I laughed.

To Lyle, I looked lekker in a swirlkous and pyjamas. He was always ready to jump me in the backseat.. Something I both loved and despised.

 

“But ya… just know that I wanna try and be friends again man. Let’s do supper.”

I declined.

 

I had no interest in reconciliation.

Not for the next few years.

I had it all planned out in my head.

We would be cordial, but he would watch me be okay without him. Then, when the kids were teens… he would have gotten his life in order and enough time would have passed for us to try again, without the awkwardness of the past looming over our heads.

He knew it wasn’t over.

I knew it wasn’t over.

I did not leave Lyle because I had stopped loving him.

I left Lyle because we were a bad, bad combination.

I am very strong, and made a decision with my head…

And have since been stabbed in the heart many, many times.

….

“I received your restraining order now… they just delivered it”

“Yup”.

“Yor. Okay.”

“Okay … bye”

“Bye”.

Our last conversation.

The last thing I said to him, was a sarcastic “bye”, so that he could go away.

 

There are actually 6 stages of grief…

They forgot to mention ‘regret’.

 

I scrolled through my Facebook today, to see the messages of condolences.

I could not get myself to answer any. Most were just “What happened”.. which is not so much a condolence, but more a pry.

And I battled with whether to put the story on my crime site.

I did, because we all want to know how deaths happened.

Who am I to stop anyone’s fix of trauma-porn?

I also did it because had anyone else died, I would have felt that the community needed to be educated and aware.

And I have never been a hypocrite.

So through my tears I typed out a very poorly written article.

Still, better on paper. Because the happenings of the morning of September 5^th 2015 taste bitter in my mouth.

But the fake condolences are not the people in my inbox or on my wall…

The ones that bother me are the people posting his picture, saying how they miss him. . . When they never really liked him in the first place.

Now, before you speak… understand that how I felt about Lyle was never a secret. We had no lies, and he always knew where he stood with me, and vice versa.

But, I am talking about the ‘friends’ who avoided him… Never really wanted him to join in on the fun… saw him as a burden…. And now are reaping the social points for ‘knowing the deceased’.

You are the worst kind of person…

And he knew you were fake.

His memory deserves better than your bullshit.

 

Lyle Eyden died on the anniversary of the night we conceived Syria.

Lyle Eyden died on his dad’s birthday.

Lyle Eyden died at the age of 25.

These facts are irrelevant, because I want to tell you about how Lyle Eyden lived.

He lived fearlessly.

Lyle didn’t care what you thought of him.

He was the king of his own world.

Sometimes he took it too far. . . But he had to… He never felt good enough for the friends and family that refused to help him fix himself.

He asked them for jobs, they said no.

He asked for money, they rolled their eyes.

He asked to be included in camping trips and parties… they smiled politely, but made sure they avoided it.

 

Lyle Eyden loved his daughter.

He fought for her.

Physically.

Legally.

And this is the only version of the story she will be told.

It is the only version she needs to know.

At 3am on September 5^th 2015, Syria-Rose woke up crying and vomiting.

She had never been so upset.

She said “Dada”.

I like to think that he came to say Goodbye.

I went to his home today, and felt the last four years of love and animosity.

I stood at the vigil with his daughter, staring at all the side-chicks who think I never knew.

I smoked cigarettes today for the first time in a long time.

And I just absorbed it all.

My mind accepted that Lyle was gone..

….and all the voice in my head said was “Why did you leave me Lyle? What the fuck am I supposed to do now? What am I going to tell Syria?…

 

Baby, are you at least okay?

Has your soul found the peace it deserves?

Do you forgive me?

 

I am hoping that tonight when I go to sleep, he will give me the answers I so desperately need.

He was the love of my life.

We were the worst of enemies.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

 

And today… I finally understand what pain is.

 

I was going to see him at court on Monday.

I will still be going in…

I have to tell them that he is dead.

 

He is dead.

He is dead.

He is dead.

 

No.

 

 

I don’t have a PHD

Nobody. Nobody ever again.

 

I am just Shana

I am just Fertile

I am just a Hoe… With Babies

Shot through the heart. And you’re to blame.

We gave love… A bad name.

May your soul rest in eternal peace, Mr Eyden.

Till we meet again.