May 30, 2017

Dear George,

Oh, how I miss you. Today has been hard. I have cried more than I have ever cried in my life. It’s just hard to accept that you are dead. You were having fun in Colorado. When tragedy struck. An ATV accident.

I was just talking to you. Just a few days ago. At the band concert. You told me that Bohemian Rhapsody would be the crowd pleaser. You played the trombone in the band. Everything was great. Happy. Wonderful.

Those days Jamie drove you home from school were fun. That first day I was annoyed at you because after every text you sent Jamie, you put the crying/laughing emoji. Ug. Now I’ll never see that again. Jamie’s car would come down the street. The passenger side window down all the way. Your arm sticking out, holding to the top of the car. It was like this every day. The radio would be on and you would tell us how much you loved the Chainsmokers.

Jamie should have driven you home today, but he didn’t. I should have seen Jamie’s car with the passenger side window rolled down. But you weren’t in the car. I didn’t say hello to you. I miss you. I want you to smile. I want you to be here. To grab the fruit snacks from the back of the car. To laugh and love your life.

It has begun to be normal for you to go home with us. Now it’s normal for you to be dead. Normal for us to never see you. Normal for us to miss you. Normal for us to mourn. I hate this new normal. I hate crying so much that my eyes hurt. That my temples hurt. I hate crying myself to sleep.

I will miss you, George Smits. Your freckles. Straight brown hair. I will miss how you ran your hands through your hair, how you spoke. I will miss you, George Smits.

It’s got me thinking: Why? How? Why does anyone have to die? Why so young? Why do I never get to see you again? Why are you dead, George? George, I miss you. I never realized how much of an impact you had on my life. Days with you were fun. It felt like an adventure. Now my days are filled with sadness.

I long to see you just one more time. I don’t believe it. I still think Jamie will come to pick me up tomorrow, and the window will be rolled down. I think I’ll see you again. Oh how I will miss you, so very much, George Smits.

My eyes hurt from crying. My temples hurt. All I want is to see you again. Say hi. Listen to you. See your texts. Your smile. I will remember you.

With much love,

Annika.