When I die, I want those who attend my funeral to write me a letter. It can say whatever it wants, but ultimately. I want it to be your goodbye. So that the pain, however big or small, can be left behind. I want the letters buried with me.
"We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." -Bukowski
That is what I wrote on Bo’s casket three months ago. And the other night I finally truly cried, hearing someone describe the death of their own friend.
It’s strange how feeling will hide until you aren’t looking. It’s funny how it’s hard to talk about because no one wants to hear about a death of someone their own age. No one wants to think about how they could be next.
I miss him very much and am filled with regret constantly with the lack of time we spent together because of my anxiety, and saddened by the fact we didn’t get to see each other as we planned a day before his death. I hate how no one talks about it.
I am afraid for my friends and hope we don’t lose anymore.