Monday, May 02, 2005

The Unsent Letter

May 2, 2005

My darling Liz,

When your father called me last Tuesday, I was just sitting down to write you another letter. I was going to tell you all about my weekend, and the first days of Pesach. I was going to describe the new outfit I had bought, and tell you about the friends who had come over for seder. Now I can’t seem to remember any of those details. I can only think of you, and of the days that have passed since I learned that you were gone. Three days ago, I stood in a cemetery in Pittsburgh, surrounded by people who love you dearly. Now I am back in Chicago, and something in me just needs to write one last letter.

In my other letters, I told you as much as I could about where I’d gone, what I’d done, who I’d seen, and what I’d thought. It seems silly to do that now. Am I supposed to tell you about your own funeral? I can’t do that. I don’t even like reading or writing the word ‘funeral’ because it looks so cold and final. I don’t know how to adjust to the idea that you’re gone. How can there be a world without you in it? I keep remembering the most random little details: the short-lived crush you had on one of our mutual friends, the little stuffed moose that you kept in your car, the pair of red leather boots I’d wanted to borrow but had nothing to wear them with. I see you so clearly in my mind- in the bakery, on your sofa, in your studio, at the old house, at the new house, in my room. I hear your voice and your laugh. So many tiny memories and moments keep coming back to me, reminding me what a precious gift I’d had, and overwhelming me with the feeling of loss that such a gift is gone.

There are so many things that we just don’t say to our friends. Did you know that I thought you were the best of all of us? I don’t know anyone else who was so close to perfection. I can’t imagine ever meeting someone like you again, and I am so grateful that our paths crossed six years ago, and that we became friends. I know you will never hear this- after all, where can I send it? Yet somehow I hope that by sending it off into the Internet void, you will hear me anyway. I love you so much, my dearest friend, and this will never change. Now you will always be young and beautiful and perfect, and I will always treasure the years that we had and the memories that we made.

All my love,

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