My Dearest Friend,
I don't really know how to start off this letter. I'm not sure how much time has passed since I received the phone call that told me you were no longer with me. With us, rather. I know I'm not the only one that loved you. That still loves you.
I wish I could recount my activities, minute by minute, for you so that you would know that I'm living my life to the fullest without you here. But, I was never one to lie to you. All, I can do is inform you of some of my activities. My memory is bad, as you well know. I am unable to recall it all.
It's Thanksgiving. Rather, yesterday was. I sat at the oval table that my Great-Grandmother once sat at, and listened to my family talk and laugh. I swam in the voices as they drug up old memories that I had long forgotten. It was almost like my sweet Granny was sitting there with us. And when it was time for me to leave, to take my children to their father's, a heavy sense of loneliness swept over me. I wanted so badly to call you. To tell you that my mind is still full of so much loss.
But, you're not there. All I can do is speak into the night and hope that there is a God above that can carry my tears to you.
I dreamed about you last night. The dream felt as real then as this computer feels to me now. I dreamed that you had not really died. That, instead, you had been carried off to some secret government mission. The mission had ended and you had come home to me. You greeted me, hugged me, then seated me on your lap as I recounted every misstep that I have taken since we last spoke. You listened and kissed my forehead as you used to do, and then offered up your own bit of wisdom. The dream seemed to go on forever. When I awoke, you of course, were not there. And it was like I had to process the grief all over again.
How many times do you have to die before I can accept that you're gone? How many tears must fall before I can carry your memory without feeling the weight of all that was lost on my shoulders? I miss you in the same manner that I would miss oxygen if I were to be deprived of it. And, I am almost ashamed to admit this out loud, I am so tired of missing you. I've lost people before. Why are you harder to shake than the others?
I know a lot of it has to do with my memory. How you can remember what I can not. But, that can't be all that it is. I love you so very much. I keep hoping that love with fade with time. Turn into something less harmful. If you were here, you would hold me and tell me that I need more time. But, I am too impatient. It's been two years at least. How much longer must I swim within your void?
I must go now. The pain has set in and it tends to control me at this point. Please know, hear, read, or whatever the spirit world allows you to do, that you were loved when you were alive.
And you are loved even more now.
As Always,
Wes
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