Dear Emily,

I had hoped that my first letter to someone this year would be to you. It was one of my resolutions to write one at least one a month. You inspired me with that first card way back in fall semester. It didn't feel right to not do it, even if I wasn't sure you would be able to read it. So here it is, the letter I started writing in my head the minute I got the call at 11:16 pm on January 15th, 2017.

When I described you to my roommate for the first time, as we all do with our friends from high school to our new friends in college, I know I mentioned sparkles. To be more specific, I think I mentioned sparkles, a huge and ever-present smile, cheerleading, Most School Spirit, pink, glitter, bubbly, and blonde was at the tail end because I couldn't decide what color to call your hair.

We were close-ish in high school, but I knew we were going to grow closer after graduation. We talked about that sometimes. Thank you for all of the cute/funny/oddly attractive things you sent me on Twitter and Snapchat. They really helped me through the rough first couple of months of fall semester. I'm sorry if I didn't reply to them quickly or if I just sent emojis in response. I really did love them.

I never got the chance to tell you, but I think I'm going to be writing for that Facebook page/blog Books Rock My World you liked and showed me awhile back! I was waiting until I had more information, I knew you would want to know everything. I'd really like to write about books that you enjoyed at least once. I know your book collection at home and at school was varied and beautiful.

You inspired me in so many ways. You and I were going to grow up to be badass feminist art (of some kind) makers. I was so excited to share this journey called College with you, even if it was from a distance. Thank you for letting me help you with your slam poem, Give Me Motive. I want to be able to do something cool with that one day. It shouldn't go unrecognized.

You spoke out for those who didn't have a voice. You fought back against misogyny, racism, homophobia, and the other forms of inequality that crept through the hallways of our high school. You were braver than me, and I aspire to reach your level of confidence. Your heart was so big and there was so much room in it for everyone.

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I know you weren't always sunny. You had bad days, it would be unfair of us not to remember that you were human. You were sad sometimes, you cried, you felt loss, you needed a hug, but through all of that, you were still the brightest sun in our galaxy of students. Even on your worst days you tried to help others.

I am still astounded by your generosity. You always had a kind word, a hug, or a booming laugh for anyone who needed it. I'll never forget our practices trying to choreograph Bat Boy and the hilarity that ensued. I always knew when you were entering the stage, even if I wasn't in the auditorium at the time.

I'll never forget dressing up as a Jedi Knight, you were a Sith Lord, before the Force Awakens was released. I'll never forget how much you hyped me up after the formal prom assembly. You made me feel like an actual princess. I'll never forget the excessive amounts of glitter you used on posters our first year in ASB. That back doorstep of Mrs. Storey's classroom was coated in glitter until the day those buildings were torn down.

Let's get real for a moment. Statistically speaking, we knew we would lose at least one person from the Class of 2016 before we graduated. I think we all thought we dodged the bullet after Timothy's accident. I think we figured that was the worst of it, and we had beat the statistic. I think that's why it's so hard for any of this to feel real.

Timothy got through it, there was still hope in us that you would, too. I know it was irrational, but that was my first thought. There was a mistake made, an inexperienced EMT or whoever shows up to car accidents and decides someone's time here is over. There was no way.

But there was no mistake, it happened, and you are gone. The reality of it all still hasn't settled on my shoulders. I hope you are, as I am, comforted by the outpouring of support for your family and friends from the community you gave so much to.

I do have one regret though. I know you wouldn't like his, but I have to get it off of my chest.

We had plans to go to coffee over Winter Break. I kept pushing them off, we were busy, I wanted to be with my mom, I didn't want to leave the house, until it was too late. I spent five hours at the dentist and you called to ask if I wanted to take a trip into Corvallis with you to drop some things off at your dorm.

You called me, I had to push ignore as I had a small mirror and hook in my mouth at the time, and you left me a voicemail. I texted back as fast as I could, explaining the situation, asking what you needed/what was going on, when the hygienist left the cubicle to go find the dentist. I had to decline the invitation, with the promise that we would see each other the next time we were both home or we were in Corvallis or Forest Grove.

I never bothered listening to the voicemail.

Amidst the calls following your accident, I found the message in my inbox. There's a little blue dot next to it. I can't listen to it now though, I'm sure it doesn't say anything life-shattering, but I can't listen to it knowing that I'm no longer able to call you back after it ends.

I don't think I'll listen to it anytime soon.

I hope, I really do, you were listening to your favorite Spotify playlist on your drive back to school. You had so many great ones, and I know it was a hobby of yours to drive your adorable PT Cruiser and blast any number of them. You would pull into the high school parking lot, some form of coffee in your hand or cup holder, screaming along to Frozen, Wicked, some early 2000 throwbacks. No matter what, if you parked in the same row as me, I would sing along and you would greet me with the most ferocious wave and face-splitting smile. Your little Dollar Tree solar-powered waving flower on your dashboard would bob in time with your snapping and dancing.

I've been listening, briefly, to your "2017...God let this work" playlist. The title makes me a little sad. But the amount of Eminem, Flo Rida, and Fifth Harmony is keeping my spirits up. I went through some of your Pinterest Boards last night as well. I think I might get a tattoo you put on your "Tattoo" board the next time I go in. There are some really cute ones.

You taught me a lot of things during our time together, and there's a couple of those things I want to incorporate into my life far more often. I know this letter is getting long, but if there's a waiting room to Heaven or whatever sparkly place you're going to be living in now, I hope this can reach you and keep you distracted for a little while.

So, I promise you, Emily Reedy, that:

I will smile more, even when it rains.

I will buy the most vibrant pair of rain boots and probably not matching, but equally fantastic, umbrella.

I won't cringe when I hear a Disney song I've heard a million times.

I will embrace glitter and sparkles into my subdued wardrobe.

I will wear pink glitter/sparkles whenever I compete so you're always there to scream-cheer me on.

I will continue writing and writing a lot.

I will dedicate my first book to you.

I will read the letter you sent me when I feel your absence.

I will try not to look at pictures of you when I am sad, only when I want to remember how beautiful you were.

I will love everyone a little bit more, because I wish I could have done the same for you.

I will stop living with regrets and grudges in my heart.

I will never stop telling the story of how glorious you were.

I will never forget you.

Thank you for everything you taught and did for me, and everything losing you will teach me in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. I have so many more things I wish I could say to you. I'll just have to write you another letter.

I hope to make you proud someday. I hope you can see how much we all miss you and all of the lives you impacted during your short stay here with us. Rest easy sweetheart, you deserve it.

I love you,

Kymberlin