LETTERS

Dear Chris, The first time I saw you I thought you looked like an evil villain. You had a full beard and dark and brooding look. The beard was for a play; I think it was Much Ado About Nothing. Any way, you wouldn't give me the time of day. You snubbed me the first time I said anything to you. But one day you asked me a question and after really listening to the things I had to say, you let me in. From then on we were a team.

Lord knows we've made mistakes over the years. Who doesn't? But we bumbled past and moved forward. That's how we roll. We've always wanted to be prepared for things we were never prepared for. This last bit being the biggest of them all. I'm not prepared for these days we are in now. I'm not prepared for you to stop talking to me or not being able to understand your words. The confusion, that's the worst part.

People keep telling me how strong I am and how well I'm doing. Like I'm some sort of champion of a messy death. Go me. I'm not as strong as they think. All of this I'm doing? The cleanup, the forcing down meds, the battle to keep you with me? I'm doing that because I don't know what else to do. Not because I'm strong. Yesterday, I was so tired I couldn't sleep. All I could do was cry and cry and it seems that it hasn't stopped. I have a perpetual leak in my tear ducts. And I'm sorry that in those rare few moments when you do actually see me that you're seeing my sad tear stained face. But I can't help it, because it's like you've already left me.

Remember that time you wrecked your scooter and I was so mad at you? I was so mad because first of all you did something so stupid and it could have killed you. But I was also mad because you wouldn't have a scooter to ride around with me on. I was mad because you wrecked the thing we did together. That is what it is like now except five thousand time worse.