Friendly Visit

It’s cold outside, the first real day of winter. But I have to go see you. So I slip into a jacket that you gave me once and drive out to visit you.
The clouds are thin, grayish, whispy with holes all in them so that the sun can still shine through to cover you. I get out of my car and stare blankly at the grave yard in front of me. Scragly dead grass, brown leaves huddled together for warmth, and tall pieces of stone designating who they watch over.
It’s not too far from my car to your plot, but the nipping wind would like to make it seem that way. I pass the same things that I pass every time I come to see you. That large stone angel that gaurds the yard and protects you and your new-found friends, the mausoleum where Mr. Bain now lives for the rest of eternity, the wall of stone that goes around some of the plots but not all of them, not yours, and the older stones that look like they might fall over any day now. And then I come to you, so close in body, only six feet away. But so far away in soul, in another life where you might not know me or remember me.
My knees give out and I fall over you, catching myself on the rounded edges of you tomb stone. Tears rush from my eyes and there is no stopping them, so I let them fall. I sob for what feels like the rest of the day, until the final rays of light have left the sky. But that is not enough time.
You were with me that day, we got in that car together, but we didn’t leave together. I left with a police officer, you left with the EMS crew. It’s not fair! You and me are the same age, 17, you can’t be gone, not if I’m still here. I’m still here, to live life until I die of some natural cause instead of a drunk driver, to fail my quizes and tests and ace them too, to date new guys that you will never know, to wonder if you can hear me crying for you, to hope that some how I find you seventy some years from now when I follow you down under the grass, to stare at the place they put you where the stone has space for another name, my name, to go on with out my best friend.
I had to force myself to pull together and walk back to my car. And when I got there, I cried again.

(this story was inspired by a group of pictures by the redbubble artist dreckenschill. thanks so much!)

Friendly Visit

Katie Trzcinka

Conowingo, United States

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  • dreckenschill
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