by Erin Oquindo
There are gaps in my memory, gaping black holes that taunt me every day.
The tears in the fabric of my mind are made of nothingness, and yet are so ugly;
someone says, “look at that,” and people hum in agreement.
But I’m wearing a blindfold. I can’t see some of the things that other people can.
My voids are other people’s fondest moments. I have scars with unknown origins.
But I promise you, Kelly, that I will never forget him.
I’m listening to Foo Fighters, and it doesn’t match the mood.
But that’s ironic in and of itself; none of this matched his mood–or so I thought.
I now know never to mistake humor for joy again, and to keep my eyes and heart open to the feelings of others.
Sometimes I feel guilty for not knowing, for not being closer, for not being the friend I could have been.
But I promise you, Kelly, that I can be that for you now if you’ll accept it.
In the short time spent on Earth, marks were made.
Donald Trump, dank memes, Android products. Foo Fighters, marching band, life at Brentwood High School.
These things have different meanings for different people.
But I promise you, Kelly, that for us they are and always will be things that remind us of someone special.
There’s nothing I could ever say to turn back time or to mend what has been broken in an instant.
But I can assure you that you are surrounded by people who love you, and who love him, and will never leave you.
God has his guiding hands on you as you move through this with your family and friends.
Things are different, but we will go on.
So promise me, Kelly, that you will continue as well.