I remember the day when my phone rang; the other person sounded sad and told me to sit down. The walls of my eyes began filling with tears because nothing good ever comes after hearing, “you need to sit down.” Something was wrong.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the news that we had lost you, completely. The flood from my eyes began to stain my cheeks as I processed the news. A part of me would always love a part of you and now I had to cope with the loss of us, of you, and of all that we were in its complete totality.

In your loss, I have had to accept that,

I could not save you.

For a while, I blamed myself and thought, “what if I invited him to church,” or, “what if I spent more time with him,” or, “what if I talked to him more often.” I began to blame myself but the reality is, the power was not mine and it wasn’t yours.

You were suffering with something so dark and you knew you could talk to me, but depression choked you from opening your mouth. You could have talked to your best friends, but fear stripped you of your integrity. This darkness inside of your heart grew and grew until it swallowed you whole and we didn’t stand a chance against it, even though we so badly wish we could have.

It’s okay that memories of “us,” resurfaced from my heart when you left the world.

We weren’t just an, “us.” We were more than that. We were friends for thirteen years before you died. In the years that I knew you, we created memories that livened the idea of joy, humor, and sensitivity.

I will never forget our 10-hour phone calls spent sleeping, or the messages you sent me on every single holiday using a backward smiley face. But, more specifically, I will never forget the way you made me feel when we were together.

Your presence was unlike any other, and unfortunately, it is going to be a long time before I get to experience it again.

When you died, all of these favorite memories came back to the surface of my heart. And, that’s okay. They mattered and that’s what made our friendship so special. It’s okay because it’s how I grieved and I had to acknowledge that.

Your death killed a part of me too.

When you died, a part of me died too. You took the part of me that resented your backward smiley faces, you killed the part of my heart that would flinch when you would jump on my back and shout, “anaconda squeeze!,” and you took the part of me that became alive in your presence.

When you have a relationship with someone, they bring alive a special part of your heart, and only they have access to that area because that is their place in your life. You took that part of my heart with you when you died. My heart will heal, but life will never be the same without you.

We all miss you. We all love you. And, I am excited to have the part of my heart that died alive again when we meet in Heaven.