A Letter From a Grieving Heart, to a Forever Friend


I sit, wrapped up in an old t-shirt of yours, your scent still lingering behind, the only real reminder of your presence that will forever leave me breathless until fading away.

It’s been six months since my world has changed entirely. Six long months since you’ve taken your last breath. Six months since you spoke your last words to me. Since I’ve heard you smile over the phone as we talk about the Rolling Stones and that time in Gran Turismo when I beat you in that little, red Fiat. Times I will forever cherish.

I still feel like you are going to pop your head in and say you’ve been well, that you’ve been enjoying San Diego and its endless nightlife. Good days are few and far between, but knowing I have known you make even the darkest days a little brighter. I have been doing mass amounts of crying, more than I let on. But I guess that is normal when you lose a loved one.

You meant the world and so much more to me. I’ve learned from you, you helped me grow, and now, part of me has died with you. A part that was once so full of life, just gone. I don’t know if I will ever be the same to be honest. You held a piece of my heart no one will ever be able to replace or compare to.

I know it is foolish to sit here and be so consumed in a moment of time that will forever stand still because you would want me to be doing the opposite. You would want me out living my life, the way you did: fast, fun and limitless. You would tell me to cheer up as you read me some vulgar humor from our favorite shared comedians while calling me “lazy bones.” Even now, just imagining this brings a smile to my face. I wish I could pretend you were just gone away for the moment and that this terrible thing has never happened…

But I cannot. Grieving your loss will never become any easier. But I suppose it cannot get any harder than it already is. I’ve met some wonderful people though you, and I will forever be blessed. I just want to thank you for everything because I’m not sure I have before.

But for tonight, I sleep through the pain and hope for better days as tomorrow rolls through. Although my heart still breaks, it still beats in your memory. And for this, I am thankful. Forever missing you.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “START” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

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