Dear Chester, You came to me last night in a dream. I was lying in bed and you reached out to grab my hand and ask me what was wrong, but I felt like I couldn’t answer. I was so angry at you, didn’t you know? But I had this feeling that you were taking your time and visiting anyone who really needed to see you, and I’m grateful; I really did need to hear your voice last night.
I asked you to stay, begged you, but you just smiled and said “Tonight.” and I realized that I couldn’t ask something like that of you. After all, how selfish is it to demand you leave paradise to come back to this…dumpster fire of a world? How could I ask you to leave God’s embrace to comfort us when you would just have to leave again? I made you promise anyway. You agreed. I woke up with my arm outstretched.
Chester, I still feel your hand in mine.
Nine days since the rug as been torn out from under me. But the world is still spinning, faster than ever, without you.
I went through an angry phase. I swore the next time I saw you I was going to knock your teeth out for being such an idiot. But I’m not angry anymore. I was thinking about your music and your past and that heavy ache that made its home in your chest. I know that pain, Chester. I know it because it feels like someone has attached rocks to my ankles and convinced me it would be better just to lay in bed. What’s the point? You’re already gone. I know that pain changes things permanently in your heart. I know someone broke you when you were far too young to understand it. I know that pain too. In listening to you speak about mental health, I’ve realized that maybe it doesn’t ever get better; that you can do everything right and still hurt so unbearably. But with that in mind, 41 years is a long time to suffer. And maybe you weren’t suffering the moment you were born, so let’s round it up to 30. Thirty years, Chester. That’s such a long time. An incredible amount of time. You made a career for yourself, had a family, saw the world. We weren’t ready for you to go, but we had you so much longer than I think any of us could ever appreciate.
I forgive you. It’s in my nature. You weren’t someone I talked about every day or had posters of on my wall. But you were always a constant. Always someone I could look at and be reminded of the past, whether I wanted to think about it or not. I wouldn’t mind wiping that slate clean, but not at the cost of you. Not having you here has knocked the wind out of me and I’m still trying to get back up.
Chester, I love you, and I forgive you. You said you wanted our lives to have purpose and passion and I’ll admit I’m still trying to find that. I don’t want them to take down the memorials. I don’t want them to change their profile pictures back to anything else. I just want the world to stop spinning for a fucking second. I don’t want the world to prove you right; that it doesn’t matter, that you haven’t changed anyone’s life for the better. You wouldn’t believe this world right now, Chester. There is so much love and so much passion between fans and friends and family right now. I believe you’d be proud. But I’m just being honest when I say I don’t know how to move in a world where you don’t live, and create, and be, anymore.
Chester, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were drowning and nobody could reach you in time. I’m sorry that nobody asked if you were okay. I’m sorry if they did and you lied. No matter what I do, I can’t shake this feeling that we failed you.
I pray for your family, your babies, your bandmates and your friends every day. I ask that they come to know God if they don’t already, that He gives them peace, that they know like I do how well He’s taking care of you. There is something so comforting about knowing that they will see you again, that I will see you again.
I might not get out of bed again today. I haven’t figured out the art of missing you and being functional at the same time. But I’ll get there, and then maybe one day, when I don’t even realize it, the pain won’t be so noticeable. This is not a goodbye. I hate those. I know I’ll see you again. “Remember you’re loved, and you always will be.”
