Saturday, March 19, 2011

12 Years later

The second half of March...it's bittersweet for me.  It brings up happy thoughts of a winter season that will soon be behind us for another year but also the memory of a fateful day that swallowed up one of my best friends and never gave him back to me. 

I sit here knowing the 12th anniversary of Andrew's death is looming.  I struggle with just how much has happened in those 12 years without him here.  I've written him letters in the past with the wishful thinking that once it ventures off into cyberspace that he'll be able to 'read' it.  Silly I know, but it gets me through these next few days the best. 




Dear Andrew,

It's been 12 years, but when I close my eyes I can still picture your face clearly.  I have worried that through the years my memory of the 'looks' you'd give me, your smile, your frown, your laugh will start to fade.  So far I've managed to hold on to your image, but I miss the sound of your voice.  Rarely does a day go by that you or a passing thought of you doesn't pop into my head. You seem to always be lurking in the background.  And for that, I am truly grateful.  


As the years pass by and events happen without you I find the hole you left when you died just gets more intense.  That longing for our friendship is stronger.  It's not consuming me anymore, but the pit in my gut is still there.  Knowing what you are missing makes me miss you even more.  There is just so much I want to share with you and I'm saddened to know I can't pick up the phone to call you or email you or text you (a handy new way to communicate has come along).   When I have needed you most, you weren't there. This used to anger me, but now the reality of me not being there for you when you needed me the most leaves me with deep regret.  I used to be mad at you for leaving me. Now I'm mad at myself for not being more present.  I'm hurt that you weren't able to turn around and see that I was always right behind you. Every step of the way, I had your back. 

I am so sad that my children only know the essence of you, and not the real you.   They will never know you personally.  In my opinion, they are a little poorer because of that. They would have been blessed to have you in their life. I wish my children could have known and appreciated our friendship, what it means to have someone in your life you can depend on, laugh with, scream with, cry with, chill with - no drama, no weirdness, no strings, no expectations.  Someone who just fits - male, female, it doesn't matter. 

I haven't met anyone quite like you since....though I don't think I'm searching for someone to fill that void anymore.  I've come to realize you've earned that void.  It's yours forever and it will remain with me always.  Maybe that's my take on healing.  I don't know that I believe in the big guy upstairs or that we'll be reunited with each other again someday, no where close to here, but it's a pretty nice thought.  I'll hang on to that. 





"You are broken now, but faith can heal you." - TOOL


I miss you still,
Holly


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