Hey there,
I'm thinking about you. It's been two years since we last spoke and in just a few short hours it will be two whole years since my phone lit up with your name. I want to talk to you in so many ways, but when heaven called you home we lost connection--no thanks to any cell phone companies this time.
I've been thinking about you. Well, I've been thinking about you every day for two whole years now. Technically five if you count the years we spent together. So I decided to write a letter to you. Just to let you know, you've been on my mind. Here it goes!
To my lovely, exotic, unique, quirky, fun loving and inspiring best friend:
3 p.m.
When I received the call that you left this world the blood drained from my face first, and then from the rest of my body. I scrambled to leave my room, nearly tripped running down the stairs to fling myself into my father's arms. I'll never forget the look on his face, pure unadulterated shock. He held me as my body shook and supported me as I sat down in the living room, skin as white as a sheet. My mother entered the house only minutes later and we relayed the news to her. She fell to the floor next to me on the couch and her eyes erupted in tears.
I called one of our other best friends, told her to sit down because I had news. The line went dead.
Minutes later she arrived, terror permanently molded into her expression. The air around me felt suffocating. I left. I drove. I sat in the local chapel and felt the atmosphere soothe the external parts of my body but the inside couldn't be touched.
4 p.m.
On my drive home, I heard "Let Her Go," by Passenger and I dry heaved until I reached my driveway.
I say none of this to make you feel sad for me, only so you know how much your life impacted me, and how much our souls connected.
1:30 a.m.
I laid in bed, eyes transfixed on the ceiling when it hit me. I thought a train plowed through my chest and scattered bits and pieces of me throughout the entire universe and I'd never be able to pick them up. I clutched my comforter and stumbled into my parents room and sobbed on the floor so hard I thought I'd explode.
One Day Later:
I cried into my smoothie and showed up to work and cried the entire morning. I attended a prayer service in your honor, covered in pizza sauce and tears, and clung to people I never thought I'd touch.
Two Days Later:
A few girls arrived early to school in order to decorate your locker in green and purple (NOT your favorite colors) and attach some pictures. I spent the entire day drying tears and remembering you by being strong.
Day of the Wake:
As I drove home from shopping for the clothes to wear to see you for the last time, I heard "Let Her Go," by Passenger, I cried so hard I threw up in my driveway. That night I watched full grown men cry, saw you lying with all your favorite stuffed animals and clutched your mother, father, sister, and brother at the aisle. I held my brother as he cried, affected by your passing in so many ways. I held the hand of our other partner in crime and watched as her sadness overcame her.
Day of the Funeral:
I showed up late. Traffic was a monster that day, and I laughed because you were probably looking down on me with disbelief. I kept it together until I saw a girl in one of the pews had a ribbon printed with horses tied around her ponytail and I distinctly remember as I crunched the host and tasted the salt of my tears.
Two Years Later:
730 days. 17,520 hours. 1,051,200 minutes. All that time since I've been able to smell the Moroccan oil in your hair when you walked by. All that time since I've been able to scream something offensive at you in the hallway or bear hug you because you hated it. All that time since I've been able to lay in bed and hold your hand and whisper about how everything happens for a reason and joke about stupid things (because we were those friends). All that time since me, you, and the third (and best) member of our trio could put asparagus in each other's lockers, ride around town looking for Taco Bell at 9:30 a.m. because why not?
At two years, I have learned to cope with the hurt and see through the pain but sometimes I catch a whiff of the shampoo you used, or our favorite song comes on, or I see a place we used to love visiting and suddenly I am flooded with the image of you laughing and running in that weird way you did, and I see the way your eyes lit up when you talked about mermaids or horses or llamas. I am taken back to a time when I took your loving presence for granted and I remember all of the things I would've told you had I known you'd be gone so soon.
Losing you changed me and it changed everyone around you. But all in all, we celebrate you. Your spirit still lives in the memory of you and for that I am forever grateful. Rest in peace, you beautiful and powerful soul. We will forever love you.
