I don't need to breathe any more.
It's me. Your best friend.
I know that you might be mad at me for not writing to you sooner. I know that I haven't exactly kept in touch. And I know that it's very possible that you hate my guts right now for leaving you the way I did and just leaving at all. But at the same time, I know that it's just not possible. You could never hate me, even if I hate me.
I'm so sorry for all the times I may have been a dick to you. I thought that I would have had years to make it all up to you. I tried to do the right thing most of the time. I tried to help my mom and sisters through losing my dad. It was hard all around.
Though honestly, I can't say things are better up here. Sure, I've got my dad, his parents, my mom's dad and my little dog lucky back, but it means so little without my mom, my sisters and Amy. But especially you. You were, are and will always be my best friend. I can go skiing and hunting all I want up here, but that still doesn't make up for my loss of you. I've got all of these consolations up here, like my dad, grandparents and dog, but it still doesn't make up for my loss of you. I can look at all the cars I want, even take them apart and put them together again, but it still doesn't make up for my loss of you.
I can't do it. My dad, grandparents and dog are so happy to see me, and I'm happy to see them, it's just that I can't enjoy myself when I know I'm not going to see you for around sixty years. Here I am, looking down at my own funeral (which, in itself, is pretty morbid) and I hear what my sister says. When she says that last sentence, I burst out laughing. I know what you're thinking, "What's so funny about your sister having a hard time breathing?" and the answer is, that's not why I'm laughing. I'm laughing because I can't breathe at all. Up here, there's no need for oxygen when you have no body.
Then I hear your speech. I really wish I still had tear ducts. I thought you hated me. I would have understood if you did. But this, this is totally irrational. I just can't understand why you would still love me. I left you with pain at my death. My dad comes and pats me on my phantom shoulder. He says that was exactly how he felt when he died. He just could not understand why my mom forgave him so easily. I told him the reasons why I didn't forgive him. This confused him for a minute before I told him that there was nothing to forgive. He then smiled at me and told me that was probably how you felt right now. I froze up and suddenly knew that he was right. Of course I still feel crappy about leaving, but at least now I understand.
I gotta go now. The big guy is only letting me write for an hour so I need to wrap it up here. Talk to you tomorrow.
Remember, I'm sorry and I love you.