I wrote this at the two month mark. It’s hard to believe that more time has passed since I wrote it than had between his death and the writing thereof.

Ian,

Two months ago right now, you were drinking your last drinks. Listening to whatever your last playlist was. Maybe watching your last movie.

Tonight, I watched the Brewers break their 9 game winning streak with your family. I booed the Cardinals. I drank some beer.

Now I’m lying on one of your pillows. It still smells like your bed. The wonders of a sealed plastic garbage bag. It doesn’t, however, smell like you. That scent is gone forever now. Replaced with the more tenacious undertones of stale cigarette smoke… Either because you smoked more than you let on, or because it’s stubborn enough to hang on from when you did smoke regularly. I tend to think the latter.

I keep not wanting to believe you’re gone. I keep wanting to think I can wake up and it will all be over. I can’t think that because when I do, I see your dead body. Your eyes bereft of light and life. But I wish I could.

I alternate wildly between thinking that you can hear me, and are watching and thinking there’s nothing left, and I will never feel your presence again. You left us all. And I know it was because you didn’t think there was another option, but I still have a hard time not being hurt that you didn’t let me know what was going on. You often told me I was the best friend you’d ever had…. But you ended up not letting me in on your most important problem… You didn’t let me help, and that hurts.

I wish that time travel were a reality. I wish I could go back and head this off at the pass… Get to know you when we first met. Stave off the heartbreak that I think killed you.

You’ve broken more hearts than you could have imagined by doing this. I know you thought it was for the best, but you were wrong. I wish you could have felt the love I had for you. The love everyone else who knew you had. I wish you’d let me in.

I love you. I always will. I miss you too, and always will.

You asshole.

-Iris

Written 4/14/2014

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