Hey, happy birthday. You’d be 20 this week, you know. It’s so weird to imagine. It hasn’t even been a year since you’ve been gone.

I don’t know what I was expecting. I think I have this idyllic idea that if you had just made it to 20, maybe you would have found something else to hold on to. Maybe if you’d stuck around for a bit longer something could have come around that would have made your life easier to live. Maybe you could have even held on to 21 and then who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t be writing a letter to a dead friend.

I’m probably wrong. There is nothing inherently special about turning 20. When I was little I imagined that by this point in my life I would have all my shit together- I’d be able to curl my hair on my own, shave my legs without accidentally slicing them open, and, you know, do other adult type activities. But I hope you know that you were not the only one who didn’t have their life together. Gosh, kid. I am still so clueless.

How long had we known each other? My first memory of us was probably when I was four and you were five. You had moved in down the street and we played together all the time, but there was this day when you and your brother both just walked on into our house like you’d lived there for years. I remember looking at my mother in shock because my proper four-year-old self could not possibly comprehend. “What are those boys doing? You said we always have to knock! Mom!” Yeah, things didn’t really change much. You always did drive me absolutely bonkers.

I remember chasing you around trying to kiss you because I wanted to make you fight with me. We were at the age where you thought girls were icky, and our brothers always followed your lead, so I was perpetually bored every time our families got together. I'm telling you, getting you mad at me was my only source of entertainment. Then we played hide-and-seek for hours and I always hid in the same spot, but you always waited. You waited to look in that spot until everyone else was found because you knew I hated being "it." You had my back sometimes, and other times you were the reason I needed it watched.

We weren’t exactly friends, I guess. We didn't hang out, or talk about life or really have anything in common. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. We had too many years of annoying each other to even really try to. But when families are as close as ours are you don’t really need to be friends in order to matter. You were family. It causes me so much pain to see your family now, you know. They ask about school and life and friends and I have so much I would love to tell them. Usually, I am just spilling over with words and excitement about all of the opportunities I’ve had this year and I want to share that joy.

It’s not so joyful when the only thing on all of our minds is that you should be having all of these experiences too. You should be making plans and going on adventures and meeting new people. Your life should have been getting better, not ending.

But here’s to you, still, I guess. Happy twentieth birthday. We should be out at the pool like we were every year, eating too much food, and eating all the ice cream cake (because I swear I only ever had it for your birthdays.) I’d probably be massively annoyed seeing as it would be you and our brothers against me, like it has been for years. Had been for years.

My mom was teasing me the other day because apparently when I was little I could not, for the life of me, comprehend the Prodigal Son story; I guess I just thought the kid was too annoying and his dad was silly for thinking he'd change. Then, because we can't go a day without talking about you, you came up. You were kind of a pain sometimes, you still are if we're being honest, but I would give anything to see you just casually walking up the street.

I understand the story now.

We missed you last Thanksgiving. No one is allowed to sit in your seat except your mom, not that anyone would want to — it will always be your seat. It amazed me how much food there still was at the end of the meal. Part of it had something to do with no one really having an appetite, I mean you'd been gone all of two weeks at that point. But a huge chunk of it was your share that no one could compete with. I don't think it had really sunk in for me yet though. I mean, I don't actually remember any time in my life when I didn't know you, so a world without you in it is a very new idea for me. I don't like it. I say we missed you last Thanksgiving, but seeing as it's bad to lie to the dead I should say we haven't stopped missing you for about 10 months.

You should be 20 this week, and you're not. When you took your life you took a piece of so many of the lives around you. I know that wasn't your intention. No matter how irritated I got with you, I know you were never one to try to hurt other people. But come on. Did you really think everyone would get by unscathed? Maybe you did. I don't know. Just so you know, we didn’t. But hey, I guess today is still worthy of celebration, seeing as I'm glad you were born and all. So, with all that being said, happy, happy birthday.