I’m usually really good with words, or at least that’s what people tell me. So why is it then, that I can never come up with the right ones to accurately explain how much I miss you?
What I can manage to put into words, are the memories, the thoughts, the dreams I have of you every single day. I cherish the good times and the bad times and all the times in between because nowadays I would give anything to have any kind of time with you. I remember sitting in the car with you, waiting for Pappy to get off work. We would get drinks from the gas station and you would complain about missing an episode of General Hospital. We would sit outside the Goodwill, and you would smoke and I would talk and now I have dreams of cigarette smoke and diet coke in half-empty parking lots.
When you moved in with us during my senior year of high school, I was happy and I was worried. I was excited to spend time with you, and I was worried that I couldn’t give you the care you needed after having such a horrible stroke. The months you lived with us, you gave me more happiness than I had had throughout my entire high school career. I laughed more than I ever had. I smiled and I genuinely meant it for once in many years. You kept my secrets and I kept yours and I keep them to this day, close to my heart.
I still think about you. It’s been so long since you died. I think about the day you died. Sometimes, it replays in my head like an infinite loop. I told you that I would see you tomorrow, I told you that I loved you. I didn’t see you the next morning, but I still love you. For the longest time, I was not ok. Some days, I’m still not ok, but I’ve gotten a lot better. The first few days after you died, I wouldn’t have minded if I had died too. I laid in bed all day, my mother and sister would try to console me; but I didn’t want them. I wanted you. I had told you I would see you tomorrow. It was on those days that I found your last message to me. It was just a tag, a tag attached to your favorite shirt. It was one of those days that I thought life was not worth living, and then I looked down at the shirt I clutched between my fingers and I saw three words that I instantly knew you wanted me to see. “Life is Good.”
You were my best friend. I told you anything and everything. You hugged me when I cried and you laughed with me when I made a stupid joke. You were my best friend; you still are my best friend. Today, I write to tell you that I’m okay. I wasn’t for a long time, some days I’m still not okay. On those days, I can hear your voice telling me that I am alive and that life is good. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a lifetime’s worth of happiness. You are my best friend, and I miss you. I miss you, but I know that you are up in the clouds somewhere; smoking a cigarette and complaining about missing General Hospital. I know that you are with Pappy, and DJ, and even my dad. I know that you are smiling down at me, reminding me every day that Life is so very good.
I love you.
