I had a dream a few nights ago. It was completely simple. You and I were sitting at a table, talking about mundane little high school things. The only thing that struck me as odd was that in the dream, I knew you were dead. You knew you were dead. The fact wasn’t hidden, but it wasn’t shocking either. I didn’t ask you any of the important questions, you know, the kinds they show when such a situation happens in a movie? I didn’t ask what dying felt like, I didn’t ask if you had met God yet, I didn’t ask why you were driving so fast on such a rainy night. All I asked was why you hadn’t tried out for academic team this year, and complimented how well you had done on a test. It was so strange.
When I woke up, I honestly thought it was a sign that I was going to die, and come visit you soon. I have been sick a few times since you left, had chest pains, started losing hair at an alarming rate. I don’t know if I have something major wrong, or if these things are just minor.
Yesterday was pretty bad. I have felt guilty simply for living since you had to go. I had my eighteenth birthday. I sure wish you could have had yours. You deserved a nice party, with your friends and family…
I will try to live my life in a way you would have been proud of. I am no you. You were full of life and potential. But I will try very hard, so that the time I have been blessed with and that you never got to have will not be a waste.
That friend from school that misses you and hopes to see you again in Heaven.