"I've never been good with starts and finishes. That's always been the problem with my writing."
Those are your words. I found them in one of the many late night (for you, early morning for me) chat transcripts I've gone over this week, the week after you passed away. The words seem to fit here as I've wanted to write something but I've no idea where and how to start.
November 18th. That is the date of my last email to you. It seemed impossible it could have been that long. My heart sank when I realized it indeed had.
So many times I've seen people get married, have kids, and mostly lose touch. And though I vowed I'd never be like that, turns out I'm the worst of all.
In the span of a couple of emails, I was telling you about the birth of my son, while you were telling me you were losing your job. Nonetheless, you could not contain your excitement for me. I think it's obvious who the better friend was here.
Those are your words. I found them in one of the many late night (for you, early morning for me) chat transcripts I've gone over this week, the week after you passed away. The words seem to fit here as I've wanted to write something but I've no idea where and how to start.
November 18th. That is the date of my last email to you. It seemed impossible it could have been that long. My heart sank when I realized it indeed had.
So many times I've seen people get married, have kids, and mostly lose touch. And though I vowed I'd never be like that, turns out I'm the worst of all.
In the span of a couple of emails, I was telling you about the birth of my son, while you were telling me you were losing your job. Nonetheless, you could not contain your excitement for me. I think it's obvious who the better friend was here.
Did you even know I considered you a friend? Did I ever tell you?
I don't know how you died. Your next to last Facebook post said your left leg was hurting. Later that day, you were gone. Someone speculated it might have been a blood clot from DVT. I wonder if you tried to get help. Maybe if we were chatting regularly like we used to, I might have suggested you get to the hospital.
I don't know how you died. Your next to last Facebook post said your left leg was hurting. Later that day, you were gone. Someone speculated it might have been a blood clot from DVT. I wonder if you tried to get help. Maybe if we were chatting regularly like we used to, I might have suggested you get to the hospital.
You had been out of work a couple of different times, so I wonder if you put it off due to concerns about insurance or medical bills. Because this is America and sometimes you have to choose risking your life and hoping for the best over going into debt! I yell, to no one...
I cannot recall exactly how we came across each other. I've found blog comments from as far back as 2005. The memories are random and scattered.
An Eddie Rabbitt song came on the other day and it brought to mind a conversation we had about you recording one of his albums your mom had from vinyl onto a cassette back in the 80's. Not that I would consider you a country music fan by any stretch. Perhaps that's what made it stick out.
You bought and sent me a cap after Alabama played and won the national championship in the Rose Bowl several years ago.
You told me about an online literary magazine run by an acquaintance of yours and suggested I submit to it.
An Eddie Rabbitt song came on the other day and it brought to mind a conversation we had about you recording one of his albums your mom had from vinyl onto a cassette back in the 80's. Not that I would consider you a country music fan by any stretch. Perhaps that's what made it stick out.
You bought and sent me a cap after Alabama played and won the national championship in the Rose Bowl several years ago.
You told me about an online literary magazine run by an acquaintance of yours and suggested I submit to it.
You were always watching your cooking competition shows. Loved Christmas music even though you weren't religious. I mean, there were very few people in my life with whom I could discuss "Funky, Funky Christmas." And now there is one less.
My thoughts are choppy. My writing is worse. I miss our chats. I'm sorry if I disappeared on you. This tribute is not worthy of you, of your life. I'll just say there are a lot of things that make me think of you. I hope they always do.
I'm not sure what happens after this, but I know what I hope. I hope you are somewhere walking Sharky, listening to your favorite Christmas songs, free of all the pain and worry of this realm.
If you can no longer be here, that is the finish I would write for you.
