It’s been a little over a week since I found out you were gone. I haven’t been the same since. My dad keeps telling me that I should talk to you, but every time I try to start up a conversation, I find myself…stuck. “I’m sorry for-“; “I should’ve-“; “I wish-“; “I miss-“
I can never get the fucking words out. It feels so cowardly. And I’m so, so sorry for that.
Whenever things become difficult for me to handle, I bury them into this fragile-ass, cookie jar of emotions that can never hold much at once. I can stuff a little more in there if I take some time out of my day to just curl up and cry a few minutes, but I don’t think my metaphorical tape is holding the lid down too well anymore. I haven’t emptied the jar in a while, and everything is just overflowing all at once.
I should’ve had called you. It was only a couple weeks ago that our moms ran into each other. They talked about finally having that class reunion we always talked about. I thought we had more time. When I heard about how you left this world…my heart sunk. I was so ashamed of myself.
You had died doing the same thing I had tried to do. But I got to live. I got a second chance, and I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing with it half the time.
I wish I’d talked to you about what we were going through. I wish I’d encouraged you, empathized with you. But I was spending so much time trying to close my over-stuffed jar, I couldn’t see how much you, and all the other people in my life were struggling to close their’s too.
I miss you. Your spunk. Your sarcasm. Your blunt humor. It was you who first made me feel welcomed and home again when I came back to Glendale all those years ago. I remember the way you shook me by the shoulders in the fourth grade and screamed at my face that I had to remember you.
I remember I was more surprised that you had remembered me yourself. You made me feel so loved.
I wish you could see the way you’re bringing our class back together now. Friends I haven’t spoken to in 8, 9 years. Asking each other questions like, “Are you alright?” “Have you been okay yourself?” “Do you need anything” And actually giving and getting honest answers.
My jar is cracking today. I’ve spent all week trying to empty it out by surrounding myself with wonderful people, fun outings, good food. But I think I can’t take in all that good without emptying out all the bad first.
I’m sorry for ranting. I’m not sure what it is I want to say. But I promise I’ll try to keep talking to you in the meantime.
I need to pray again. Ironically, it helps that one of my favorite Bible verses is about our treasures being held in jars of clay.
2 Corinthians 4: 7-9
But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.
I promise I’ll work on taking better care of my jar. God’s got us both in his hands, love.
I can’t wait to see you again one day. Goodnight.