You weren’t yourself the last time I saw you.
If you could read this now, I think you would agree.
To be fair, I don’t think I was truly myself either.
I remember someone laughing uncontrollably, first me, than another girl.
The jokes weren’t funny. Everyone else knew it, but we couldn’t stop ourselves.
The fear, the panic, the pre-grief we felt had to bubble up somehow, and that was the way it was going to go.
I sometimes wish I had told you this the last time I saw you,
but I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you would have wanted to hear.
No one else wanted you to hear it, either.
Let me make one thing clear:
You were never a burden.
At times, your illness was, but you never were.
The months and anniversaries after your death always seem so sappy to me.
I don’t miss your “lovely spirit,” or your “generosity to others.”
I miss you.
I will always miss you.
Wherever you are, I hope you know that.