Catherine,
I don't have any words. And I don't think I deserve to have any, given that we didn't end on the best of terms. We always had an on-off friendship in high school and college. When we were on, we were inseparable. When we were off, we were miserable. I don't deserve to sit here and talk about how wonderful you are but I'm going to anyways. You were always willing to give, to do what it took to make someone smile. And sometimes people took advantage of that. But no matter how many times you were hurt, you persevered. You had a kind heart. You were always down for any adventure and always willingly to eat copious amounts of food with me, because we deserved to "treat ourselves."
It's hard when someone dies. But even harder when you knew their dreams and what they wanted from their life. You always said you wanted to be a mom. And you would've been a great one. You had to be.
My heart is broken. Broken that we ended the way we did, broken for all the life you didn't get to live, broken for your family, broken for your friends. It's ironic how when someone dies all these people who didn't care now do. I'm sorry for being one of those people. You deserve better.
When I first heard of what had happened, I felt guilty. Guilty that I hadn't tried to mend what was broken between us. Assuming, stupidly, that if I had, somehow my friendship could have saved you. But it wouldn't have. No amount of love can stop a tragedy, or else you would still be here. Over the past couple days, I've stopped feeling guilty. Because I know in your final moments you weren't thinking about me and the friendship that could have been. No, you were thinking about all the loved ones in your life. I realize now, we were both content with how we left each other. Not everyone is meant to be best friends forever. And there is nothing to feel guilty about in that.
But I want you to know that you will be remembered as my twin. Remembered by the drunk laughter and matching outfits walking through neighborhood streets. Remembered through cookie dough at 2 a.m. and the screams of your mom to go to bed. Remembered through the nights of whispered encouragements that I was worth it through tear stained pillowcases. Remembered.
I hope we can both find some peace in that.
