It’s gotten easier over time. I can still play back the news in my mind like a film reel, second by second. Knowing exactly what I said, my reactions, the course that conversation took, along with the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Every so often I go to visit you. I last went around Christmas, It was actually the 26th and it was so incredibly warm that I just sat there on the grass having a full on conversation with you. I told you about what had happened recently, at the time my life was falling apart- I always went to you for strength, now more than ever. 

Every time I visit more time has passed. I’m usually working somewhere new, or have new people in my life. I find myself fighting back tears praying for signs or direction. I always find myself asking you, Why? I will never have the answer to that. I will never know why I have to talk to you through a Marble stone, or why the only kisses you’ll ever receive are from my lips, to the tip of my fingers, grazing the top of your tombstone. I will never for as long as I’m alive know why you put that needle into your arm that night. Why after nine months of sobriety you had a moment of weakness, and didn’t feel you could turn to anyone. So many people loved and cared about you. Why did you have to be another textbook case scenario for why our home is called “Heroin Island”?

I wonder if you knew the effect you had on people, how many would show up to your funeral, or how even two years later people still speak highly of you. Just hours ago you were brought up to me in conversation for your “good looks” (You sure would have loved that), I couldn’t help but smile; for although you’re gone, you once were mine and I took pride in it. I loved you because of how happy you made me but you equally drove me just as crazy.

I spent my time worrying about you. Wishing you weren’t drinking, smoking, or shooting up. When you were clean I worried what show or movie was on that could trigger something for you. -I remember having a mini heart attack just having Pulp fiction on the tv. You were my greatest weakness because of how much I cared for you. Although every day I wish you were still around, I have moved on with my life just the same as if you were still here. 

Losing someone forever is a lot harder than just loosing someone through a break up. I’d go through dozens of break ups and it still wouldn’t add up to the pain of a final goodbye. The gut wrenching words “He didn’t make it this time” play in my mind like a record on repeat.

It’s almost two years later; I can’t look at needles, I can’t see people shoot up in film without covering my eyes, I get anxiety attacks the closer it gets to the date. 

I wish I knew what was going through your mind in those moments. I wish you knew in those seconds just how many people loved you, how much I loved you. How I was sitting in Friday’s, staring at my phone, typing and deleting “Hey” over and over again, possibly the very moments you passed.

I wish you were here still, but I know you’re my guardian Angel. 

I wish my only option wasn’t talking to you through a cold Marble Slab in a cemetery because I miss your voice, your grilled cheese sandwiches, crappy guitar playing, and sarcastic replies. I miss you here.

 I miss my friend.

(Source: punlich)