Looking at things now, at the end of the day, it almost seems incredibly fitting that you would come to me in my dreams on the first of the month. I spent the first two days of this year saying goodbye to you and laying you to rest. Now seven months later I found myself waking up from a dream with you in it.

It was the first time you’ve visited me in a dream since you’ve passed, and I woke up feeling indifferent about it. The dream itself felt eerie in the sense that the scenarios within it felt all too familiar. While I struggle to remember every exact detail like we all do when we wake up from a dream, what I remember felt like a taste of deja vu. A dream where I spent my time trying to convince you of how much you meant to me. A dream where I felt like I was playing a game of tug of war with heroin, and you were left in the middle. Left going off in a heartbreaking direction that lead you away from me.

In the end, heroin won the battle, as it almost always does. Because I woke up from this dream without you here. Quickly realizing that these types of conversations were the only ones I would now get to have with you. Conversations that only exist in my head, conversations we won’t get to have face to face. The thought of this pains me to my core in a way that I’ll never be able to graciously pour out into words.

As upsetting as it was to start my day off this way, waking up with such a blatant reminder that you’re no longer here with all of us. I now find myself even more upset over the fact that I cannot control when I’ll get to see you in this way. A way that is now the most lifelike scenario that I’ll get to share with you, my dreams.

I went and visited you in April on the 4 month anniversary of your death. I’d been wanting to see you, but between the cold weather and my nerves, I hadn’t built up the courage to actually do it. But as the universe would have it, on the four month anniversary of your passing I found myself with a babysitter coincidentally volunteering to watch my kids on a gorgeous day filled with sunshine and warm weather. It seemed like everything around me was pointing me in the direction of you, telling me it was time to make my visit.

When I finally found myself kneeling before you, I felt so different than how I had imagined that I would in my mind. I began to talk to you, asking you how it could be possible that you’re actually gone. Asking you what I was suppose to do now that you’re not here, knowing I’ll never have a male best friend like you again… ever. Reminding you of one of the last conversations that we had in person, where I did my best to explain to you that I’d lose myself if you ever overdosed, that I wouldn’t be able to stand it here without you. To be completely transparent, I grabbed your leg and told you I would kill myself if this scenario ever happened. Yet somehow, this dreaded situation that I had upsettingly imagined so many times in my head was now our reality.

Walking away from your grave that day once again left me with mixed feelings. I found myself feeling more peaceful than I thought I would, somehow subconsciously finding comfort in spilling out all of these emotions to you. While also feeling comforted in the fact that I could now visit you whenever I wanted and would always know exactly where you are. But as I was so painfully reminded of this morning, I also realized that this would now be the only way I could physically (somehow) see you. That sitting alone in a cemetery in the middle of a city that constantly reminds me of you, would now be the only way I would get to spend time with you and speak with you.

As I wrap up writing for work and getting all other tasks done for the day, I’m left with the strong hope that you’ll visit me again tonight. Even if the dream pains me, even if in this otherworldly plane I still find myself trying to tear you away from heroin, it would be better than no visit from you at all. I’m now left wondering, will this be how I feel each and every night before I shut my eyes for the day? Will i ever to be able to learn how to carry this pain with me throughout life? At this moment in time, the thought feels achingly impossible and out of reach.

While the both of us have always shared a similar outlook on the afterlife, that it is a anticipation that truly does not exist. I find myself constantly hoping that we’ve been wrong all along. You being gone is the one thing that makes me hope that something actually comes next after this grand story. You deserve to be in a better place where you’re surrounded by peace, and I desire to know that you’re not forever gone and off. That I’ll once again get to see your face and have you hold me in your arms again. I’ve said this before, but while everyone else misses the amazing laughter that you use to project out to all of us, it’s your hugs that I miss the most. I use to tell everyone that you were like a big teddy bear, and that your hugs were one of the most comforting things I’ve ever felt and discovered in life. I hate that you’ve taken them away from me, this irreplicable satisfaction.

I will never not be thinking about you, and I will never stop telling your story. I’ll love you as long as I’m breathing. Best friend, what have you done?