I need all of you to take a break from our regularly scheduled programming;
Stop for just a second for this moment of reflection, that’s all I ask you.
If you’ve made it to live to 22, and you’re sitting here reading this; maybe your birthday was this year or a few years ago, but you made it past 22. And you’re sitting here reading this. If you haven’t made it to 22 yet, that’s okay too: reflect upon this and your future.
We are not promised the people in our lives; we are not promised our own life. And if you have made it to 22, you have oh, oh, so much to be grateful for.
Please just take a moment to breathe in deep, and feel the blessings you have received to make it to the age you have: most of the people I love have not been so lucky.
Erin, RIP. You were the first love of my life and pneumonia stole you from me two weeks before your 22nd birthday in 2011. I never got to say goodbye, but the last text I have from you was, “I love you.” And I love you, too. I will always love you; you changed my life. You helped me learn who I was; who I am. It has been a rough six years without you, and I’m still recovering from the breakdown. I haven’t made good choices since you’ve been gone. I was angry and I wanted to lay down and die next to you. Please know: I’m trying to be better, trying to live without you, and you were an amazing burst of color in this grey world of mine. You will always be the vibrant heart beating in the shadows of my mind. I’ll never forget all the times we laughed until our faces literally hurt, and we were begging each other to stop, but we couldn’t, and we thought our faces would just split open, but we kept laughing anyway. I’ll never forget all the stories we wrote together. Finding you was like finding a reflection of myself that I had lost, somewhere along the way.
Ashley, RIP. You made it to 24 only for cystic fibrosis to say, “I think we’re done here” two weeks before you were scheduled for your life-saving lung transplant, after months (and a lifetime) of terror and struggling to breathe. Erin had just died a few months before and we both missed her, and I was trying so hard to support you and I know you were scared. I know you knew the week before that you were going to die; you tried to tell everyone and they just ignored you and tried to encourage you that everything was going to be okay anyway. Nobody wanted to see the truth. You were always smiling and trying to be positive regardless; you went gracefully into that long goodnight and no one can replace the beauty you brought to this world. I wish we could have gotten even closer before your last day; a friendship that would have lasted years had it not been cut so short.
Jarrod, RIP. My little brother and best friend. You also made it to 22 and never saw your 23rd birthday. You were murdered last year in February on the same day Erin died, five years prior. Same day, same age, and the coincidence gets me every day. There’s a lot of things I regret about your death. I wasn’t in my right frame of mind; I was still angry over Erin’s death, angry at the world, angry at everyone and everything -- anything to try and cover up the gaping chasm of pain in my chest. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry we were fighting right before you were killed. I turned into a monster, and that’s unforgivable, but I hope you can forgive me anyway. Please know I will never forget all the times we spent growing up together, all the long car rides with the music up loud, the bass lines, all the boba teas, all the video games we played and all the jokes we made. No one will ever master first person shooters quite like you did. You were amazing. I am sorry I didn’t tell you that before you died. Instead I was mad and I told you you were worthless and I will never forgive myself for what came out of my mouth during our arguments. I am so, so sorry. I love you.
Amanda, RIP. You actually made it to 30, like me. Quite an accomplishment considering how many of my friends and family died or were killed in their 20′s. You were robbed of that by someone you trusted; they gave you something they told you was safe, and you died alone in the living room in less than fifteen minutes while they were out on the back porch smoking a cigarette. I pray, pray, pray that you were unconscious, and not terrified on the floor of the living room unable to speak and praying for that someone to come walking back in the door in time. I pray that it was at least peaceful, like falling asleep. You were such a beautiful person and you did not deserve to die alone in your apartment with no one who cared surrounding you, with some jackass smoking a cigarette twenty feet away. You took so much abuse in your life from your significant others, and you STILL managed to smile despite that, something I never learned how to do. I hope one of these days I can learn the singular grace that both you and Ashley possessed. You didn’t deserve anything that happened, but you were such a sweetheart despite all of it.
Bo, RIP. I’ll never be the same after your death. I’ll never get attached quite the same again; you were my child in place of an actual human child since I can’t get pregnant. My one and only. My lifelong companion. I lost you a year after Erin died, and I can’t describe the changes in my heart after that. This was when the hardness in my heart really began; I don’t know how to reconcile with the hole where you once used to be, much like the holes Erin and Jarrod left behind. Just know that our short time together was the best in my life and no one will ever replace the love I had for my first child. I miss you every day and you will always be this witch’s cat, riding on my shoulders.
Xanadu, RIP. I am so so sorry. You died this week and I can’t handle it; so much loss these past six years and I can barely keep my head above water. Please, please, please forgive me. I cannot write your eulogy yet.
If you managed to stay with me this long; thank you.
Remember to tell the people you love, that you love them: every chance you get. Even when you’re angry. It matters. I know you hear that and it’s some cliche; but you’ll regret it if you actually lose someone you love.
Because they might not be here tomorrow.