Today's post is by Kelly of DeBie Hive. Her writing always moves and inspires me. Often controversial, always thought-provoking, I'm so honored that Kelly is sharing her story with us.
My dear friend,
It's been a long while now since the last time I saw your
face. It seems like forever since I've heard your infectious laugh, seen the
smile that could light up everyone around you.You were here and then you weren't, and it all happened so suddenly that we were all in shock for quite a long time about it. The questions began almost immediately, but none of them would ever have answers. Not the kind of answers that would ever satisfy what we felt we needed, nothing would ever be enough of a reason for why we had to lose you the way we did when we did.
Death has a way of asking more questions than answering
them.
There is a day that I will forever remember as the moment
that I had a chance to reach out more than I allowed. That day haunts me still,
and I know that if you were here you would be the first to tell me that there
wasn't anything I could have done or said that day that would have changed
things, though there is a piece of my heart that would give anything for that
moment back.
We stood at the edge of the grassy field that morning, just
you and I. You'd guided me to the place we ended up, and there was an urgency
to what you needed to tell me. The weather was unseasonably cold. The wind was
bitter. You were wearing a heavy coat and a scarf tied up around your neck.
You looked into my eyes, you looked into my soul, and in
that moment I knew. I knew that you knew the pain that I knew. I knew that
there was a piece of the story that wasn't sliding out effortlessly. I knew
that there was something you were holding back, and I knew it because I knew.
I knew it because we were in this very similar place
together, but neither of us wanted to admit it, and in that moment neither of
us could reach out to the other one. I'm here now and you're gone and there is
nothing about it that makes sense.
Life is not fair. No one ever claimed that it was supposed
to be, this much is true. It is so much more unfair to some of us though, and
those of us who have been in that place where you and I were that morning can
see it now in someone else, no matter how hard we try to push it away and
pretend like everything is fine.
It wasn't fine.
And I knew.
But I didn't say anything.There was a gut instinct that morning that reached into my heart and told me to show you that I understood. That urged me to open up and let you in. That wanted more than anything to assure you that I was a safe place. That wanted to tell you that there were things that I could relate to in a way that few others could.
Then there was the shame inside me that held it in, that
made me stop.
It wasn't that I didn't trust you to open up.
I didn't trust myself.
I wasn't there yet.
I am now, but it's too late. I'm still here and you're gone.
I miss you. I miss your laugh and your smile and the energy
that oozed from your person in such a rare way that I haven't seen it since.
You taught me many things while you were here, but the last
of those lessons was the greatest of them all. It is this.
I will never hold back my emotions, my empathy, my love for
someone else again. I will not let shame keep me from telling my stories. I
will not ignore that urge in my heart to open up to the person who may need to
hear it the most. I will not.
I just wish, oh how I wish, that I had learned that lesson
sooner.
I know that you'll never read this letter, not really
anyway. The finality of death assures me of this truth. Maybe, just maybe there
is a way that this message can find its way to you out there somewhere.
I'm sorry.
I failed you as a friend when you needed me the most, and I
failed you because I was ashamed of something I didn't even do.
I carry regret for the words that went unspoken.
My solemn vow to you is that it will never happen again.
I love you and I miss you.
Love,
Kelly
~~~~~~~~~
As a postscript to this story, I must tell you all that I wrote this several weeks ago and turned it over to Kathy, unsure of when she would run it. I was still quite nervous about sharing this, but I decided to let it go and trust her with it. When she told me that it would run this week, suddenly it all made sense. This week, we will pass the second anniversary of the day this amazing woman left our world. I was supposed to write this. I was supposed to share this. I miss you, my dear friend.
As a postscript to this story, I must tell you all that I wrote this several weeks ago and turned it over to Kathy, unsure of when she would run it. I was still quite nervous about sharing this, but I decided to let it go and trust her with it. When she told me that it would run this week, suddenly it all made sense. This week, we will pass the second anniversary of the day this amazing woman left our world. I was supposed to write this. I was supposed to share this. I miss you, my dear friend.
