But I Wouldn't Do You Justice

Something really hurts today.

I’m pretty sure it’s my heart.

Today’s world has so many doctors who can fix an array of different maladies, but where’s the cure for heartache?

Someone wonderful left the world today.

Someone brilliantly inquisitive and thoughtful thought it was time to go.

A positively radiant someone’s light went out today.

Someone who was a pleasant “breath of fresh air” took their very last.

The world lost a little sunshine today.

A little ray of sunshine that I will always call my friend.

When something like this happens, it’s intrusively shocking.

It’s comes in and infiltrates your day, your thoughts, your life, hitting you repeatedly with horrifyingly awful news that overwhelms your senses until you shut down completely, drowning you in thick, salty tears that choke you until you’re numb with grief and the inexhaustible sting of heartbreak.

You succumb to the pain and the hurt and the suffering that stifles your body, constricting your thoughts. It fills you up, consumes you, pulls you down and hurts you deeply.

It hurts you deep inside where no one can reach it, or see it, or touch it.

But you know you’ll feel it forever—the throbbing, excruciating ache inside you.

Suddenly everything is different.

You feel empty.

Alone.

But filled with grief and resentment, a new strain of misery you’ve never experienced.

It’s all new to you, this heartache: you find it hard to swallow, smile, breathe—hard to get out of bed, hard to face the world, hard to join reality once your reality is so severely altered.

I could write and write and write,

try to capture your witty sarcasm,

your wonderful smile,

your marvelous ability to bring everyone to tears with a perfectly-placed joke at dinner,

your perpetual knowledge of all things literary,

your favorite grey JMU sweatshirt,

the selfless way you were our constant friend,

the flash of light in your eyes when you laughed,

how we could talk to you for hours on end and never feel like we wasted the whole day away,

how many times we talked about everything and nothing at all, how every insignificant thing we ever did is magnified in my mind, imprinted in my memory, to have with me forever,

and I could write you every little memory until I couldn't anymore,

I could make it sound beautifully melodic, a testament to our friendship,

this novel of mine,

but I wouldn't do you justice.

I can't come to terms with what happened just yet.

I've listened to this song more times than I can count.

I'm so very, terribly sorry.

Emily, you were a vivacious, positively brilliant, wonderful person with a heart of gold. I feel privileged to have met you, known you, and been able to call you my friend even if it was just for a short while.

I'll forever miss you, and remember you always.