Logan,
If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.
Writing those words feels surreal, like a bad joke I’d never laugh at, but here we are.
And if I know you, you’re probably blaming yourself.
So let’s get one thing straight right now.
Don’t. Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.
You don’t carry that weight—you hear me? Not for me, not for anyone.
You’ve been my wingman in every way that matters, not just in the cockpit. You’ve had my back through the good, the bad, and the absolutely insane. And yeah, we’ve had some good times, haven’t we? Those memories—they’re what I want you to hold on to. Not this. Not me being gone.
I don’t know where this leaves you, man, but I need you to promise me something. Don’t let this break you. Not for long, anyway. Grieve, scream, punch a wall (preferably not one made of concrete—trust me), but don’t stay stuck there. You’ve got too much life ahead of you to get lost in the dark.
You’re probably rolling your eyes right now, muttering, “Damn it, Ryan, why’d you have to get all sappy?” Well, screw you. I’m dead—I get to be sappy. But seriously, I love you, brother. I don’t say that lightly, and I sure as hell wouldn’t say it out loud, but I need you to know it.
Live for both of us, Logan.
Always your wingman,
Ryan