Belated.

It's been five years. Five years later, I found myself crying so hard I could not catch my breath. And four days later, I'm still crying. That is the amazing power of therapy. It opens up and heals old wounds that never quite repaired themselves properly. Ones that you never realized were even there. Taking up energy, holding pain.

I once had a best friend that was everything in my life. He made me laugh in a way I can't quite describe. He was so unexpectedly funny, so creative, so kind. He was my first love. I thought he was ttthhhee besttt. And we shared the best of life.... laughing, playing, creating our own world without abandon. (If you knew us, you know what I'm talking about.) I knew him in my most formative years. He held my dreams. He knew me better than anyone. He knew who I was and who I wanted to be. And when he passed away, so much went with him. 

I found out about his death at a gas station in rural Illinois. We had buried my aunt's ashes that morning and my mom received the call that afternoon. Now looking back, I was in shock. But then, and for years, I thought I was just good with death.

Life is certainly mysterious. And now I'm realizing, death even more so. As I looked at his pictures this week, I realized how young he looked. Only now, as I look at myself at 32, can I do this comparison. He will be held in this old existence, these beautiful memories, and I am sad that I can't see what his life is... that he can't see mine.

I'm not quite sure why I am sharing this, or writing it. But as with most things, I'm sure there is a purpose. Perhaps it is to move on, or to help someone else grieving, but I think more so, it is to honor you, Billy. To let you know... You taught me so much about life: travel, friendship, family, infinite love and laughter. I still love you. I still miss you. We were magic. "Queen of the Castle. Loooord, of the Manor..."