Dear Living One,
I still love you. I miss you. I am near you. I sense you.
Your heart is cracked, shattered. The pain overwhelms, takes your breath away, and in that flicker of a moment, when you can’t, I breathe for you.
I am with you. Always.
Mom, Dad — I’m still your child. You will always be my mom and dad. I miss you more than I can say and I am with you, every day. At every gathering. There with you.
I love you all so much.
Those of you who were with me when I died, you are holy. You are sacred.
You did the best you could.
You live with missing me, with a grief-racked chest and a heart as heavy as stones. You keep telling yourself there should have been more you could have done. Rethinking every detail. Reliving that moment.
Fuck, bro. You’re not God. You were never supposed to be.
There are no words that make missing me any easier.
You’re still living. And I get that you’re sad, but you’re LIVING.
How can you waste even a moment of it? You only have this moment. THIS moment.
Don’t spend it on me. We had our time.
You’re here. You have the power in you to live your life.
Moving on is not a sign that you love me less.
You will never lose me.
But you have to let yourself live.
You’re still on this earth because you are needed there. Needed. Your mission is not done. And I know you’re tired, but it’s not all about you. There’s a bigger picture and your life matters in it.
The pain is cruel, I know. But those of us, the fallen, we’re still with you. We don’t want our lives to have been in vain. We don’t want to be remembered for our deaths.
We want to see you live.
You have to choose it. Not this half-death you’re living. Full on LIFE.
We’re with you, giving you everything we’ve got, giving you strength. Willing you to go on.
I know it hurts. I know you feel torn. I know how brave you are.
Choose life. Start living again.
Do it for me.