It hit me like a steel toe-capped kick to the chest. And I choked on the shock. I couldn’t breathe. I thought that only happened in movies, but in real life there are things that hit you so hard that your body can’t catch up with your mind, and words just don’t come.
And then I cried all the colour out of my face. Like a metaphor. I didn’t know you could do that.
And you’re left, numbed and shattered all at once, reaching back in time with slow-motion wishful thoughts that can never conjure the presence just lost. It’s too late to put a protective arm around your shoulder and remind you to love yourself.
When we met you were a high school kid and I was in my late twenties, reeling directionless from a marriage I’d just left, looking to find myself and carve out a niche in this world for the real me. And you, just a kid! With so much more wisdom than me. So much to share. You understood like so few do.
Telling you how much your friendship has meant to me over the years is one less regret I’ll have to bear, because it was always so easy to tell you anything.
All the stupid mistakes I made in life, and I’m still here. And for you it took only one.
I miss you is not enough. I miss who you were going to be, as well as who you were. The most thought-stirring and soulful writer I know. And I was excited that the world was going to get to know you as I did, first through your words. Words with the power to change people’s worlds. Words that can never be unwritten, and I’m so grateful for still having those.
I wanted to do you justice with my goodbye, but my heart has stolen all the words from my mind and turned them into tears.
You would have written it better. Better because your words always carried so much on such fragile lines.
I don’t want to believe you’re gone. A book finished mid-chapter, a sentence left hanging…