Dear Josh

Well hey. It's coming up on 3 months since you've been gone. That is so weird. I feel like 100 years older. Your mom and I have been talking a lot. I like her. She's handled this with such grace and simple faith that I am floored every time i talk to her. It's sort of homey talking to her, like closer to you or something.

I went running last night and stopped at this park to just lay on this hill and stare up at the sky. I was just kinda tired and felt so heavy. Of course, stupid Ryan Adams starts cooing in my ear our song at that very moment. Perfect. Then, I just let go. It's like these tears just came up from the bottom of my feet all the way out. I cry a lot when i'm going to sleep at night, but it's always kinda quiet, soft tears. These were huge, loud sobs that made me sore this morning. It's been a while since I've cried like that. And it was a weird sort of relieving to let it all go. I feel like we played a lot of games with each other's hearts. You know? And I just yelled up at the sky, 'I'm done playing! I'm done playing. This hurts for real this time!" (If there was anyone in earshot, I'm sure they thought I was a quack.) But really. It hurts for real this time. Losing you is the hardest thing i've ever lived through -- and i'm not even quite sure i'm gonna make it. (Ha, that's so dramatic) I mean, I will. I know. But days like today it just doesn't seem so certain. I just can't imagine ever feeling for someone what I felt about you. I can't imagine wanting someone like I wanted you.

It all just happened so fast. Why did you have to go? Come back and let's play again. I'll even let you win. I will! It's funny because people talk a lot about you being in heaven and being finally restored. I guess that's good. I mean, it is. It's just funny because i have to fight this selfishness that always says, "But i can take care of you just fine. I can be your peace." But I know I can't. I know I wasn't. So I guess I'm supposed to grow up and love you selflessly and really allow you to be there and be made new. I guess. I think last night I decided that I hadn't made my peace with God about you. You know? Like I'm still not ok with Him taking you. But, as it turns out, it's not up to me.

So for now, it just hurts. It hurts to think about when I first met you in my dorm room on my way to the showers. It hurts to think about all those sweet times we had. It hurts to think that you're not out there thinking about me like I am about you. Before I always knew I was in the back of your mind (thanks Ryan Adams), someone that you could go to when your loneliness was just too much. And it hurts to know now that you don't need me as a simple solace. You don't want me like you did. Wow, I guess you're over me. Ha, that's oversimplification at its finest.

Anyways. I'm sorry that I never made it down there until your wake. I'm sorry that you got tied up with all that crap in Dallas. I'm sorry that I loved you so selfishly.

Going down there, writing your mom, it all seem so unreal. Like, there's no way this is really happening. There's no way that I'm standing here, staring up at the sign above the door at the funeral home with your name on it. There's no way that I really we really said our last goodbyes at the cemetary. It's just too unreal. It hurts too much to be real.

"So I'll hold you close in the back of my mind..."

II Corinthians 4:11-12

For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

Today...

Today I'm mad. When I start to think about Josh being gone, instead of crying I have this weird picture of myself just taking a huge bat to this tree outside my house. I know that's strange. But it's persistently on my mind. I just haven't come to peace with his death. I haven't come to peace with the fact that he will not call me. I will never walk with his hand in mine. I will never see him at my front door. I won't awaken at 3:20 in the morning to some random text of his. And I'm not yet ok with that.

People say it a lot, but really, it just doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem possible that I'll never see him on this earth again. My mom told me the other day that he'll be there to greet me when I get to heaven. Great. I'm so glad.

And I know that now Josh is with his Creator. He is now made completely new. He is restored and is enjoying perfect, unhindered communion with the living God.

And still, selfishly, I want him here. I KNOW that I could never be able to satisfy him and bring him peace that His Father does and is, but here on earth, I can try. That's something that I always took for granted about him. I think I was this strange sort of peace to him. Like, no matter where he had been, he could still call me and know that I cared for him in a way neither of us could really explain.

I'm glad that the last words we spoke were me telling him how i felt -- finally being brutally honest about how I cared for him. I know it hurts to think how we were finally working out the saga that was us, right before he died, but I'm glad I said it.

But today hurts again. It seems to go in waves, waves of an acceptance, waves of complete despair. But today it's hopeless. Today, that feeling at the base of my chest is persistently reminding me that he will never call me again. No matter how much his mom and I talk about him, he's not coming back. He's not coming back.

"Oh, Lord, be not far away. But run to the help of your love..."