"The world breaks everyone and afterward, some are strong at the broken places." Ernest Hemingway caught the essence of the struggle in those simple words, but you made the struggle easy.
Dear "My Person,"
I have been trying to write this for so long, but there is so much to say, that words can't capture it all. I'm going to be simple for once: I miss you. There isn't a way I can explain how excruciating it was to lose you, but I'll give it to you that you didn't go without a fight. Cliché as it may seem, especially to that poetic head of yours, you put up a good fight, Buddy. In fact, you were the one leaf that wouldn't fall to autumn's might, the only color that survived the grey, the only star that never went out, and you are my person.
Dear Silly,
I remember you in the silliest of situations like watching "Glee." I see you in the corners of comic books or in Chandler's stupidity in "Friends." I see you in things that make me happy. Don't worry, you were and will always be one of the silliest things in my life. The one that made the fight bearable. I remember you in "Spongebob" and how you decided that burgers are your thing, too. I remember you now as I write this and I have a silly smile on my face, too.
Dear nerd,
I still have the poems you wrote and I go over them whenever I need inspiration. You didn't know it--how inspirational you were and still are. I mean, who else would write love poems when they were in so much pain? Who else would be the joy of every event? Who else would I write an open letter to?
Dear,
I want you to know that I understand. I understand that you carried so much on that fragile body of yours and you carried it with a lovely smile on your face. I understand that you did not lose this fight, you just moved on because it was time. I understand that you wanted to stay, that you miss us, and that you will forever be my Meredith. I'll always be your Christina, too.
Like many others that had to face the deathly grip of cancer, you made it suffer, too. You showed it, and us, all how strong you are and that your might can bid light to the darkest of nights. That is why I'm not giving up either, because thanks to you, I understand there is so much will can do.
Dear friend I lost too soon,
I'm in New York, now. In a snowstorm. I made it, just like we planned. I just want you to know, I think you made it, too. I mean, look: after so much time I'm still here writing my own version of a love poem to you. This is open because the memories you left are too big to pin down.
With love,
"Your Person"
