34. Shelby
Dear Jessica,
I remember the moment. The doctor and nurses came in, their faces looking like we were already at a funeral. They spoke in these hushed tones, and Mom broke down. Dad’s sister was there. Do you remember? Dad wasn’t fucking there. He sent his mean sister to be there. Her face was like stone.
“Any moment now,” they said.
No, I guess you don’t remember the moment you died. They said you didn’t have any quality of life. That you were in a lot of pain. I know we said we’d never do drugs, but I’m glad you were doing drugs that day. You didn’t have to be there.
I fell asleep next to you. I was holding your hand. I told you all those things I didn’t want to forget to tell you. I knew you couldn’t hear me, but I told them all to you anyway.
In my dream, we were playing together, like we did when we were really little. We were on the swings, and I felt so free, like we were flying together. The sun was in our eyes, and we were floating in the sky, and I remember feeling like I never wanted it to end.
But then I woke up. I swore I felt your hand move in mine. Just a little squeeze. But I didn’t. I couldn’t have, because you were already gone.
Some days I really, really fucking miss you, Jessica, and I’m not sorry for saying it like that.
—Shelby