Letters to dead friends

Dear Trevor,

Three years feels like such a short time. I haven’t let go of all the questions I have. What was your last day like? Did you know that it’s suicide prevention week? Did you think of me?

I keep wondering what happened after our last conversation. We were so on the same page. You wanted to make a change. You wanted to get better. You knew it would be hard. You were ready for that.

Maybe I didn’t support you enough. Maybe I didn’t follow up in the ways that I should have. I haven’t felt closure. I talk to you all the time. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel at peace with it all. Grief, I suppose.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t gone to that hotel. If you’d maybe tripped and broken your leg on your way, or if you’d made a phone call. I daydream about what job you would have. I wonder what your favorite store would be. H&M sort of sucks now, to be honest, so I wonder what you would recommend. Maybe Zara.

So many questions, no answers. I take a deep breath, and I keep moving.

Life is just like that. It continues to weird me out that so much has happened in the last three years. I’m getting married. I have a job. I bring you with me everywhere I go.

At first I was really sad because moving on felt a lot like leaving you behind.

I still get depressed sometimes and I fear that someday depression is really going to fuck up my life again. I survive for you and the other friends we’ve lost to suicide. I love that I can still hear your laugh.

I imagine that in your very final millisecond, you felt peace. I imagine that you felt whole. I imagine that you felt what you were looking for. Relief. It’s how I sleep at night. Imagining it any other way makes me feel sick.

I don’t believe in angels, but I believe in you. Your sister is such a beautiful young woman. She amazes me with her life and her smile. Instead of thinking, “he would be so proud,” I tell myself, “he is so proud,” because you’re here. You’re with her, too. And I know you’re proud.

You are nowhere and you are everywhere, all at once.

I love you like crazy, Trevor. Forever.

Sim

 

 

 

 

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