Tag: growing

Dear James, 

It’s been about a month. I thought I’d be over you leaving by now. Not completely, obviously, but I didn’t think the thought of you would still bring tears to my eyes. I listened to a song about death on the back of a motorbike in the rain. My tears blended perfectly into the world you’re no longer a part of. Last week my phone ran out of storage. I went to make some more room and saw our WhatsApp conversation was taking up some of the most space. I shouldn’t have clicked on our conversation. I had to leave my friends to cry like a little bitch. You probably would have made fun of me and then followed up with wise words to make me feel better like you used to. 

I’m afraid, James. Your death made me face that I too could leave before my time. Before my dreams and desires come to fruition. Before I manifest the goals that I feel are so close, yet so far. It taught me a lot though. Be so at peace with what I’ve created, that if I joined you today, wherever the fuck you are, I’d be happy with what I’ve done. To be fair, I am happy with what I’ve done, but feel like there’s so much more I need to do. I wanted some of those moments to be with you. 

I’m reminded by you constantly. This time last year, we were hanging out every day together. It’s rainy season. Remember how we got stuck in that down pour in the middle of nowhere and we had to pull over in some shed until it passed? Where was that? Phong Nha? Ninh Binh? You would know, but I don’t think I ever will.

I’ve seen a stupid amount of things on Facebook I’ve wanted to share with you. Should I send them anyways? Would you know I’m sending them? Do you know I’m writing this now? A sign would be pretty dope. You used to make fun of me for that kind of “slang”. Did you know that my catchphrase is “tragic” and all my friends know it? They don’t all know it’s because of you. 

I see the tchotchke you gave me every day. It hasn’t left my bedside table since I got it. That was so selfless of you. I wish I told you how much that meant to me. I have a gift I was planning to give you next time you visited. What should I do with it now? 

Now that you’re gone, I’m stuck with a lot of questions that can’t be answered. I’m forced to think more about the meaning of this thing called life, and to be honest, I don’t know what to make of it anymore. Life was better with you in it. I guess that’s the goal. To leave life making the world better having been a part of it. Rest in Paradise, James.