Letter to a Dead Friend

letter to a dead friend...

Dear Maya,

 

It was only last Sunday, we were talking. We were discussing music, boyfriends, drama at school, annoying teachers... Lame stuff that we teenagers tend to talk about. We went down to the corner cupcake store, ran away from that creepy hobo guy and almost found the courage to knock on that hot highschooler's door.

I can't believe that was only last Sunday.

I've been thinking about my life. And yours.

I never did know much about your home life. I do know your mom worked at night and you almost never got to see her. I did know that your dad was a jerk sometimes, coming home from his job at McDonalds and crashing on the couch, leaving you to find dinner. I do know that sometimes I had to drive you home from school because the bus didn't go in your part of the neighborhood and your dad got his liscence taken away.

I just didn't know that it was alot worse than that.

When your brother died, you went home with me. You cried in my room for most of the night, until your dad could come pick you up. By then you had stopped crying and went to face your dad with a stern expression. I only got a glance of his face...and I saw his eyes were red. But not for the reason yours were.

At school everyone came up and said they were sorry, and you nodded in thanks. I walked by you and held your hand when you looked like you needed help staying up.

That was four years ago. I thought you had gotten over it. You could even talk to me about him without crying.

Maybe I was wrong.

We spent almost every weekend together and when you could, you'd come and spend the night on weekdays. You'd always be so excited and fascinated at the fact that my whole family came together for dinner and talked about our day. You'd always sit next to me, quiet but always smiling. When we asked you questions, you'd answer and then continue eating. I always laughed at the way you were so quiet in front of my family, but always so hyper in front of must me. I thought maybe you were just shy around them. I didn't think it might be akward to actually spend time with family.

We'd always go upstairs to my room and you plug in my ipod, selecting your favorite songs.  We'd sit on my bed and sing along, laughing when the other forgot the lyrics or couldn't hit a high note. Then we'd pull out some paper and draw, laughing about the latest celebrity messups.

You were always such an amazing artist. I know I told you how wonderful you were, but I wish I had told you more. Maybe that would have changed your mind about how much I needed you.

You always got the free lunch at school, always marveled over what my mom packed me. You'd finish your fish sticks or cheese sandwhich they supplied and then eye my chocolate cookies and fresh blueberries. You'd always ask for some, and only somtimes I would give them. I was hanging on the excuse that I was hungry too. Dear god, I feel so stupid. Obviously, you were the hungry one. I just didn't know how hungry.

Now I wish that I had traded lunch with you every day. I always had more food at home...I didn't know you didn't.

I remember that one time you came over to comfort me when I was crying. It was only because some stupid guy had just broken up with me. You promised everything would be ok and that I'd find a much better guy. I believed you but I couldn't stop crying.

I went home that night, and cried even more. But only because I realized what a jerk I had been. I hadn't noticed those tears in your own eyes. I didn't know then why you were crying. I didn't know your mother had tried to commit suicide. I didn't know...

I should have been trying to comfort you.

 

I guess I really should have thought more about you not showing up to school on Monday. I guess I supposed you were sick. I was stupid.

Even when you were sick before, you'd call more or something, just to have someone to talk to I suppose.

Then Wednesday morning came. I didn't expect it. I can remember the words perfectly. I should have been alerted when I heard the pain in the secretary's voice.

"Good Morning Jackson Middle. We have just recieved horrible news in which we shall solemnly share with the school. A wonderufl student of ours was found dead last night. If any of you were close to Maya Kelser and need to go home or need a counsler's assistance we would invite you to the office. Mrs. Bush-"

I have to admit I didn't hear the rest. I stood, frozen for what felt like hours. Everyone in the class was staring at me. Everyone knew we were best friends...

I don't remember much after that, just that the teacher walked over and helped me up. I remember finding my hands bloody from grasping the desk so hard and I remember all the stares from the rest of the kids as I made my way down the hallway with the teacher.

 

The next thing I knew I was waking up in my bed. It was strange as I woke up Thursday morning. The first thing I heard was a mourning dove outside. I acutally smiled. You loved to mimic thier call, you adored them.

I made my way downstairs, my jeans uncomfortable for sleeping in them. I poured myself some cereal and sat down at the table, as if it were just any regular morning.

But, somewhere inside me, I knew it wasn't.

My parents came down after I finished my cereal and hugged me, speaking to me things I don't remember.

 

I was excused from school today. To go to your funeral.

 

I'm wearing a black dress. For once I wanted to. I knew you'd laugh at seeing me in a dress. Neither of us enjoyed dresses that much. You had laughed once before that you'd die before you'd wear a pink frilly dress. I guess that came true.

 

Right now, I'm sitting away from your coffin. I have a hard time looking over there. I feel bad though, becuase I haven't cried yet. But I think you'd understand...as you always tried to hide your tears too. I'm sorry I didn't know how many tears there were.

 

I'm mainly writing this letter for myself right now. Just so I know I won't forget everything I loved about you. All the amazing times we spent together. Just so I can really say how sorry I really am, sorry that I wasn't there more than I was.

 

I haven't seen your dad yet. I don't know who set up the funeral. It's nothing fancy. I know how angry you'd be with your mom for using up her salary to pay for this.

She's here. She's crying. So is your younger sister. The baby doesn't understand. He's just occupided with the large teddy bear by your coffin.

 

My hand's numb now, from writing this. I don't want to stop though.

I want to tell you...or myself...about everything we ever went through together. But that would take forever, wouldn't it?

I feel bad for not remembering the first day we met. It was so long ago...

 

Your dad just walked in. He's still wearing his McDonald's outfit. His eyes are still red...but not from tears. It's hard for me to write this. The cold hard truth finally breaking for me.

It's horribly amazing how much I missed.

 

I guess my sorry really isn't worth anything anymore.

 

I thought I knew you. I thought you had told me everything there was to know. I guess I was wrong...

 

Why'd you do it? That's all I want to know. I'll never get the answer, but god Maya...

 

I'm getting sloppy now. Forgive me. As if...

 

I'm finally crying now. Now that I've admitted what a fool I was.

I hope you understood...understand.

 

I loved you always as a friend Maya. I needed you. I don't know why you did it, I never will. But I forgive you. I won't be mad because you chose to leave. I pray you had a reason. Though I don't think there are many that were worth your life.

 

The service is about to start now. I'm going to stop writing. I hope you don't think I'll ever stop thinking about you. I never will.

 

With all love,

 

Your best friend.

Arizona Sky

 

 

Maya Serene Kelser

Virginia

 

Fourteen year old Maya Kelser was found dead on Tuesday night in her Southern Virginia home. Her cause of death is labeled as suicide. She leaves behind her mother, father, younger sister and infant brother. She attended Jackson Middle School and any reasons of suicide are unknown to her friends and family that were willing to report.

Her funeral was held at Oakey's Funeral Home Wednesday afternoon with a strong turnout of students and adults.

She will be deeply missed by all family and friends.

 

Author's Note

this isn't a real story. it never actually happened to me, and i pray it never does. But, there is truth in it that I hope is recognized with other people's pain.

Reviews

[Anonymous]

Wow, I went on reading this believing that it had actually happened... You wrote so painfully detailed and vividly that anyone would've believed that it was a true story if you had said so. It was a beautifully written story, and indeed was true for many people, even if it wasn't for you. It was a chilling and very touching story, made me tear up a little. Outstanding work, my friend... Very nice.

_Cloud

[Warrior]

Great story telling. This did justice in the realm of getting the message across. Great message. There's lot of times where a story can have a great message to aim for, and have a lot of under lining things but then no one gets it, and if no one gets it, then the point has failed. But in my opinion this did well to get the message across. You made it clear, which is why I think it's good. Keep up the good work.

[Susanna F]

This is amazingly well written and moving. I wondered if it was true or fiction as I read, but I thought probably fiction because I can't imagine someone in the midst of that kind of grief writing so clearly and expressing so well! This is a work of very vivid imagination, and I bet a lot of people who've known loss could relate to it. Great work.

[compositionc]

God, that was so touching and such a tragedy. I can't believe you could come up with such detail from imagination. This was beautiful. Made me tear up a little.

[hippityhoppitybippitybo..]

A different style of writing from what I usually see and I actually appreciate there being something like this since I never really get to see things written in this manner and it manages to spark some ideas, unlike most of the things I read. It dwells quite a bite on the past, although the amount of "present" is good enough; in my opinion, I think it would've been better if you talked at least just a little bit about the future, which you don't see much nowadays in letters. Other than that brief moment of nitpicking, it was a well written piece that I probably won't forget for a while.

[Roger Morrison]

This is very powerfully written... it seems very much like a true story with the emotion and attention to details, the sincerity with which it's written. Great job

[Matthew Smith]

I certainly /hope/ this isn't a real "story". Fourteen is too young to know jack about the real difficulties and troubles of life, although...yeah, some things can be hard.

But...this is touching. It really hit home. Good stuff, depressing stuff.