Saying Goodbye

Dear John,

It’s been a year since you died. 

You were my best friend. I mean, you know that, obviously, but, uh, it’s a nice thing to say. A nice thought to have, I think. I know you don’t really care to hear this, but your mother and I actually really get along. Actually, it’s not really fair for me to say what you would and wouldn’t care about, since I clearly didn’t know you as well as I thought I did, but you made it pretty clear how you felt about her. She’s not as bad as you made her out to be. Or, at the very least, she’s a lot nicer to me than she was to you. And I’m not saying I’m replacing you, but having her as a friend is making the you sized hole a little in my life a little less empty. She’s a comfort, she really is. I’m yet to see the horns and pitchfork you were talking about, but I promise if she steps out of line I’ll beat her up for you. For old times sake.

I know talking to you after you’ve died is, let’s say, unconventional, to say the least, but I love you, you know? And you left me a little earlier than expected. Not that I’m blaming you, obviously, but, ah, it was kind of your fault. I guess I can say whatever I want without backtracking now, though. What are you going to do, haunt me? Nah, if you couldn’t figure out how to not drive off a cliff in broad daylight, I seriously doubt you could figure out how to haunt me. The most I’m expecting is a cold spot, really. I don’t think you could shatter a light bulb or anything. Not that I’m belittling your haunting talents, I just seriously doubt it. Like, seriously doubt it. I’d say I’d stake my life on it, but that seems like poor taste.

I’m trying not to make this about me, since that would be kind of a dick move, but I’m going to tell you about my day because I don’t have anyone else. Except your mother, but that’s kind of weird. I’ll stop talking about her. Sorry. Anyways, I really miss you, man. The office isn’t as boring as it is annoying now. It’s been a year and people are still weird around me. I still go to all our old haunts. The parking lot downtown is still abandoned, and I still feed the raccoons, including Jenny. Jenny’s looking a little older, a little weary, but you can’t expect much from a feral raccoon. I finally got my rabies shot, too. I think I’m going to try to hug one of them. I’ll do it in your honor. I, Greyson Lee, swear to you, John Barlowe, to hug Jenny in your honor, and, if I shall need it, I also pledge to use some of my inheritance (thanks for the money, by the way) to pay for my hospital bills.

Mikey really misses you, by the way. I mean, you guys dated for like three years, so I understand he’d be a wreck, but he’s still in his Crying While Eating Ice Cream And Watching Sad Romance Movies stage over a year later. I’m not saying I’m holding it against him or anything, but I’m kind of holding it against him. Kind of makes me feel bad, you know? Like, we’ve been best friends since third grade and I’m not grieving as hard as the guy who knew you for three and a half years. I know it’s not a competition, I’m not trying to make it into one, but I… I don’t feel you anymore, you know? In the beginning I’d forget you were even gone. I’d walk into my apartment and I’d just assume you were already on my couch, splayed out, probably eating something you took from out of my fridge, and I’d tell you about my day. I’d realize, usually midway through a sentence, that you were not in fact there, and that I was just some sad guy talking to himself in his sad apartment.That’s really pathetic, though, huh? Not as pathetic as driving off a cliff in, and I can’t emphasize this enough, broad daylight, though, so I got that going for me.

But now it’s like you really are gone. Sometimes I wonder if I made you up, if you ever actually existed. And (forgive me for snooping) after flipping through your journals and everything, it kind of feels like I never really knew you. The deepest parts of you, I mean. Your mother (I knew I said I wouldn’t bring her up again, but she really has helped me through this, and there’s nothing you can do about it so shut up) told me, when the news first broke, that if there was any way your accident wasn’t… wasn’t an accident… I would know, because I knew everything about you. And I did, on the surface. I knew the shallowest parts of you. Your likes and dislikes, your sense of humor, your goals, your dreams. But when she asked me that, I was really taken back, because I honestly didn’t know. And I still don’t. Were you in a dark place? Was it just an accident? We have no way of knowing now, or, at least, no way I can think of. Resurrection, maybe? It’s a little past the three day period, though. Maybe there’s a time limit on miracles.

Neither of us were/are religious, but we’d talk about that kind of stuff back when we’d have sleepovers. Do you remember that? We’d be up all night, talking about God and heaven and reincarnation and anything we could think of, entertaining the idea that there was something, anything after life. I don’t think so now, though. You’re just gone. Forever. It’s getting harder to remember the way you laughed, or silly little anecdotes that would stick in my brain before. There’s just less you now. I feel the emptiness still, I think I always will, but I don’t miss you. Not anymore, now that I can’t remember what there is to miss. Your picture is still hanging on my wall, though. I don’t know if it should anymore. I’m not grieving, I don’t think. Maybe in my subconscious. I just wanted to write to you to say goodbye. Fill you in on what there is to fill you in on. There really was no warning to you dying in the first place, so it wasn’t like I got to say goodbye before. I’ll do it now.

Goodbye, Johnny Barlowe. You were my best friend and my closest confidant. I could never replace you, but I’ll sure as hell try. For my sake and yours. Your mother’s too, I guess. We all need to move on. Expect a letter from Mikey too, once I can actually convince him to let go of you. It’s a process, a slow one, but we’re progressing in whatever ways we can. In the words of your favorite movie, “Life finds a way”. I love you, Johnny, and I vow to visit your grave every anniversary unless I forget, in which case I’m sorry in advance. I mean, let’s be realistic here, it’s bound to happen, but I’ll try as hard as I can. Thank you for being my friend all those years. It wasn’t always easy to put up with me, I know, but I appreciate you sticking around till the end. You’ll always be my best friend, even when I grow up and become a stranger to you. I hope you’ll like me in the future, because I’m visiting your grave no matter what. See you on the other side, loser. Tell my grandma I said hi, assuming you’re both in heaven. If not, my bad. Anyways, I have some crying to do. I’ll see you(r grave) in about a year or so. See ya, buddy. I love you.

Love,

Greyson

(P.S. I’ll tell Jenny goodbye for you, I know it’s what you would’ve wanted. If she latches on to my face like the wild creature she is, it will be worth it.)