A little over a week ago, we passed the six month marker. It wasn’t as momentous in my mind as I thought it would be. I guess at this point, time is time and you’re still gone, so who cares how long it’s been? But I still count.
On a long drive yesterday, I thought about all the ways in which I felt I failed you. So today’s letter is an apology. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you sooner. I’m sorry that the one night you were in trouble and freaking out, I forgot to bring my phone inside and let you sit, wondering where the hell I was for an extra hour. I’m sorry that I pushed you. I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were getting to the breaking point. I’m sorry I wasn’t psychic.
I’m sorry that I didn’t say something to your mom on New Year’s night, when I thought you were with the family, and they thought you were with friends, and you were really alone. If I had, maybe we would have been clued in.
I’m sorry I didn’t make you talk to me when you said we needed to talk.
I’m sorry I didn’t just stop by the Saturday night before you died… I wanted to.
I’m sorry I didn’t text you on Monday night when the plans I’d made fell through, and I thought about texting to see if you wanted to hang out and work on the wedding. I’m sorry I didn’t text you later that night, when I woke up probably right at the time you were settling down on your loveseat with the implements. I thought about it.
I’m sorry I wasn’t as helpful as I could have been. I’m sorry I didn’t push you to use my assistance as much as I wanted to.
I’m sorry I believed you when you said you were excited about the future… that I didn’t see the lie.
I’m sorry you’re gone. I’m sorry you were in so much pain that you didn’t feel there was any other way. I’m sorry I didn’t see the pain.
I miss you. I hope you ARE finally fine.
I love you.
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