Earlier this week, I was browsing my Tumblr dash, and came across this post:
And if you look at the tags on the bottom, you’ll see what happened. I read it, and realized that I had a friend that was a soulmate. Someone who got me to the very core, who I didn’t have to say much of anything to- but did. We chatted constantly.
And while I have a lot of wonderful new friends, there’s still the hole that he left in my life. It’s not as big as it used to be- so many other things used to bring up raw grief that would literally force me to curl in on myself and sob. But it’s still there.
It isn’t as though this hits me when I think of something sad. It’s the happy memories that hit the hardest- make me miss him the most. Things he would have liked. Imagining the guilt trip he’d give me for screwing around on the internet instead of writing (he really supported my writing). Fond things like that post above. Memories of someone who understood me- the good and the bad.
I still wonder what if. Which is a horrible thing to do when you’ve lost someone, but inevitable if you’re me. That’s my job as a writer, wondering. So I let myself consider it, beat myself up over not being able to save him (though I know that I did all I could do) and I pick myself up and move on.
And then write about it.