I'm writing you this letter knowing you can't read it. I'm sitting is this chair while you're laying in that bed. I'm trying to catch my breath and you have machines that are breathing for you. In all my life I've never had anyone close to me come anywhere near dying. The closest I have is that one time mike almost chopped his finger off and even then I almost passed out. Sure grandparents have died, but those deaths, the deaths of the aged, are okay. Lives lived and memories made and time spent on earth doing exactly their purpose. And we expect that to happen. We usually see it coming. We expect that people will get hurt and that they'll get sick and they'll get better because people die when they're old.
Originally when Jason called to tell me what had happened, I didn't want to come. I thought that maybe people would think that I wasn't a good enough friend to have a seat at your bedside or in the waiting room. I was actually concerned with what they would think! Can you even believe that? But then. I thought about you. And I thought about me. And I thought about that time you took me to all those fancy stores and waited on me hand and foot so that the people wouldn't notice that I was only in there because oprah gave me gift certificates, but know that I was something big and I was someone to be honored. And I thought about how cool you made me look when I visited you after my job interview in my corporate clothes and you dressed me in all that oakley gear and fixed my hair so I'd be cuter. And I thought about how you danced with me until the lights came on. And I remembered how you let me borrow your basketball shorts and designer t-shirts to sleep in when we had parties at the house. And I remembered my first shot of sambuca and how I threw it up shortly after. And I remembered you singing to us when you didn't even want to. And how you talked me out of getting lighter marks because even though everyone had them, they weren't good for me. And how much fun you made that trip to home depot. And when you spent an hour trying to explain to me how the beltway works and I still didn't understand which way was north.
And then I realized, I'd be selfish to not come. I'd be stupid to be scared of all those tubes and buttons and beeping. I'd be a terrible friend, if I didn't scrape up the courage to make you feel as important as you made me feel. Plus, I'd be pissed if you didn't show up for me. I'm just lucky to be your friend. And if God wants you back, then I can't blame him cause me too.
Mostly, I just wanted you to know that while I was there... you still felt like you to me.
And maybe you couldn't hear me when I told you that I love you. But. Maybe you could.