late night missing you

It was a good life,
it was a good life,
I’d do it all again,
I’d do it all again…

I come home from a birthday party and a wedding tonight and I see pictures of Amy and I together, just the two of us. Dustin is mourning her absence tonight, her mother is mourning her absence tonight, her sisters are mourning her absence tonight, but all I see is the two of us running around laughing, talking, smiling. I know the loss is all of ours but the reality is that what she and I had is the only thing I really understand enough to feel.. my heart aches in a runaway sensation that cannot be resolved. It was a good life we had together, we had fun, we took the world as though it were small and our own… I will forever think of that presence with familiarity, sisterly love, need and gratitude. Though I know Amy had something else she needed to go attend to, sometimes I think, she should be getting married, she should be having children, she should be growing old with us. Sometimes I don’t think I really understand how she could be gone, seeing her cold and stiff like a strange poorly made mannequin never really made sense to me. It was never supposed to be her. Before that I kept expecting to see wedding invitations in the mail. We hadn’t seen each other in a couple years, but I always thought, she would be one of my bridesmaids when/if I got married. Strange how that one ceremony takes on such meaning for friendships. Like a relational reckoning in my mind, all those who had meant so much to me in my life, whether we were even speaking any more, would be there. It would be an opportunity for making sure people knew how much I loved them beyond whatever little things had passed between us. Amy was always there in those imaginings. She was never in a box in a strange dress, stiff and painted, cold and immobile… inanimate. I still can’t make sense of that and it makes me feel a little stupid, but I just can’t think of her spirit and that sight in the same moment. When I look at this picture of us a couple years ago with darts in our hands, blond, shoulder to shoulder, having fun on some Friday or Saturday night, I’m still trying to understand what it means…I feel this huge gaping hole where her friendship was for me. Amy was a friend to me when in high school the fickle winds of social favor blew coldly and cruelly on me. Amy was one of my first real friends. She stuck up for me, she loved me, she cared about me, we had fun together, we had real adventures and we admired each other. Without her a part of me feels more deeply alone than I ever have, more exposed, more out at sea… It was a good life, and I would do it all again. When I look at the photos I see the whole life of Amy and I realize I was something to her too, that we grew up together. I always admired Amy’s style and I think I borrowed a little vintage femininity from her. I miss her.. I miss her when I think of her laugh, and her saying “Dashie” in this loving way she used to…That was a unique friendship… a special love ❤

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