Dear you whom I called friend, It’s been a while.

There are some days that I can wake up and feel pretty good. We haven’t really had much of a conversation in years yet, somehow, you always get brought up in conversation. I always refer to you as “a good friend of mine” or even “my best friend” but deep down, I think I might just be trying to convince myself that this is still true. Almost as if I say it enough, it will eventually come true and we would be hanging out in our dusty basement again. But the thing is, friends talk. Better yet, real friends communicate and spend time with each othe. . I always read this quotes saying that a true friendship is when you can spend ages apart from one another and come back together only to have nothing change. Honestly, I think that’s just a lot of nonsense. For that to be true, you would have to come back at some point.

You would think that the Christmas spirit would just overwhelm me and keep me in a bright mood during these cold months, but that brightness seems to have dimmed. After four years, you’re no longer the freshman beating yourself up trying to figure out what to get me as a present even though we promised to not get each other anything and I am not pretending to be surprised when you delivered it. You would have wanted it to be a surprise so badly and would’ve pulled me aside to give it to me so no one saw that you actually cared. So that no one would see that you were vulnerable for once in your life. You didn’t like people to see that soft side of you. After four years the only thing that’s been pulled away in the shadows is you. Like a magician you have managed to slowly seep out of my life in an instant and, in doing so, taking a chunk of me with you, never to return.

You see, after four years you said we would stay friends forever. We had sat down and planned a life together: the colleges we would attend, the jobs we would get, and even the families we would have. We planned imaginary trips in which we would see the world and go on spontaneous adventures we didn’t know the ending to. All we knew was that there was going to be fun, laughter, and a carefree mentality that could only come from being 17 and free of any real responsibilities. Just young, wild, free, and ready to take on the world. After four years we planned to see each other every week at least once but today I only get to see you from a distance in the photos of memories we once had and that piece of paper that explained it all.

During this holiday season, the Christmas cards are arriving but I can’t be bothered to open any as I know that your face will not be only that glossy photo. After four years, that would just be too hard to bear. I still put presents under the tree, and even some with your name on them. With each gift nestled under the ornate Douglas Fir, a gap is attempted to be filled But come Christmas morning when all gifts have been opened and those few remain, the sadness will manage to peirce the holiday joy and creep in to lay claim to what has become oh so familiar.

You see, after four years, the pain of your absence should subside. The thought that you are happier now than you ever were with me should bring me at least the slightest smile and peace. Yet for some reason, after four years, I still find myself reading what you wrote in the yearbook. I still find myself pulling out the worn out piece of paper from the day that you left. Analyzing every word written and reliving every image as it flashes through my mind wondering what I could have done differently or how I could have stopped it. The Christmas spirit is alive and well in this little old town of ours, as it trudges on towards the future, leaving you in the past.

But even after four years, I still mourn the death of my good friend.

Missing you this holiday season,

Daniel