I had the most amazing friend.  We went to high school together, and of all my memories of that time, those with him are my fondest, and now my most painful.  The memories are bitter sweet, a term I never fully wanted to know the meaning of.  He inspired me, still does, and saw right through me.  My hardest time would come when I heard of his death.  I question if one day I will have the privilege to forget that day, that night.  I laughed when I heard it, cried and fell to my knees.  I never got to say goodbye to him, but then every time we met and departed I said goodbye.  I can still here his voice, his laugh, I remember his eye color, but he now remembers nothing.  Would he want me to be lamenting so, so long, so hard, the answer no.  So I weep not for him, but for myself.  I wonder will this feeling ever leave me?  Why must I sigh a little, when I laugh at a movie? It is because I know he too might have laughed at that very scene.  I write only for myself, I write in vain, and yet my pain, my suffering is nothing compared to…
So may this be my last letter, though never my last thought of you. It was real, it was real, the pain I have now is real and the past is real.

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