Dear friend,
There isn’t a word that accurately describes how much you and all off your support means to me.
You were there through the darkness and never once told me it would be okay, because you knew it just wouldn’t. You stayed even after others ran.
You sat with me in my pit and waited for the light to slowly creep in and then when I was ready you took my hand and helped me crawl to the surface. I know that you would do it again.
I’m sorry. I know I’m not the same friend or even person I was 10 years ago, my grief has stolen some of the best parts of me but you never hold it against me nor do you complain when sometimes I just can’t do the things we used to. I’m sorry that I couldn’t get the words out in a phone call. I’m sorry that not wanting anyone around included you. I’m sorry that a whole year of our friendship was spent focusing on my healing. Just know that I would do the same for you if you ever needed me to.
You always acknowledge him. It may be in little ways like saying “the boys” instead of just Oliver, or simply just saying his name out loud. It’s not forced or asked of you; you just do it without thinking. Partly because you know what it means to me but mostly because of what he means to you. He wasn’t just a part of my life he was a part of yours, someone you waited and wished for too and I know that you love him just as much as my other children.
Lastly, thank you. Because I don’t say it often enough, I know you never want it and isn’t a requirement of our friendship but I mean it.
Always,
A friend that became family.
Searching for the light 