End

  Dear Garrett, I feel that I am winding down, but there a few things left I want to say.  This is for your friends. Jonathan. Thank you. You were there until almost the end. I know that you cared. I appreciate that you were there for as long as you could be. Thank you,…

  Dear Garrett, I really hate it that I know more now than I did then. What am I supposed to do with this knowledge? What does it matter now? This knowledge doesn’t help you. I am angry that I didn’t know enough to help you when you needed me. I am angry that I…

  Dear Garrett, Whenever I see Jack in the Library, it tugs. Just a little. The first time was the hardest. You grew up together. You, Jack and Paul. Had countless sleepovers and played in the street all day. Parents would come out to supervise, and we’d visit while we watched over you. I thought…

  Garrett, It’s taken almost an entire year to accept the fact that you have died. That you are gone. I haven’t wanted to do this. And I’ve resisted it. But, it is time. You are not coming back. I will never see you again in this life. There is a part of me that…

  Dear Garrett, My mom sent me a gift. She knitted a sweater. I can only think of it as our sweater because I know she thought of you when she made it for me. My mother, who has macular degeneration, knitted this. I think of it as ours, and how can I not think…