Dear Friend

Dear friend,


I know it has been two years now since you left.

I know I’ve had two years to let go, or move on, or to heal.

But the truth it’s that some scars are uglier than the wounds.

And that I will continue to hold on to the past til the day that I die, because I always feel safer in the dark when I have something familiar to hold on to.

This isn’t to say I am glorifying my past

This isn’t to say it wasn’t full of pain

And regrets

And unforeseen consequences

This is because you were alive

And I had a reason to be.


When you are young you joke about death

As if it were a story too old to be relevant

Or a landmark on a different continent

Never realizing it whispers in the walls of possibility, of promises kept.


I never thought at 23 years old I would be learning how to grieve a friend.

Learning how to mourn someone I once saw as more alive than I ever will be.

A reminder that everyone is temporary

That every relationship has an expiration date

That not every loved one will get to say goodbye

And that life is just as scary as what comes next.


You know I went to your viewing.

Sat in my car counting rain drops

Of course there were raindrops

In the heart of winter, even the sky weeped for you.

Watching people walk in and out of the funeral home.

People you loved perhaps

People that loved you

And anyone who felt that they knew you


Listening to “what about angels” on my phone, not realizing it had been playing on repeat the whole time.

An hour of letting the tears fall

Emptying my eyes so that I could walk without crying.

So I could face the mourners without my heart on my sleeve. On my cheeks.


Walking to the door of your menagerie for memories.

Seeing the hopeless echoes in the eyes of your mother. In the eyes of your sister.

I could not bear to face those eyes.

Knowing that I could not comfort them

That I couldn’t even comfort myself

Eyes are windows to the soul they say

But they never mention not to look out the windows when the sun fades away.


I didn’t have the strength to stay for your funeral

I didn’t have the strength to tell anyone goodbye

I still don’t have the strength to change your face from my phone screen

But we both knew I was weak

That no matter how much pain I continue to be exposed to,

I will never grow used to it.

And I don’t think I’d want to

This poem is about: 
My family


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