Pouring one out for my homie…
Dearest Skipper, aka. Bill, aka Bizzle Box,
It’s been exactly 7 years to the day since you left this earth. Time is an odd thing. It seems like it’s been forever and like it was yesterday. That doesn’t even make sense.
They say time heals all wounds, but who the hell are “they” anyway? It hasn’t gotten any easier without you over time. When I want a friend to talk to, you are still the first person I want to call. If I ever get married, it sucks that you won’t be at my wedding (you will still be the honorary best maid of honor though).
I’ll never forget that weird feeling I had the day when you were in the hospital and no one told me yet, or the call I got from your brother telling me you were sick. Or when everyone was trying to protect me telling me you were going to be okay. Or the day they turned off the machines keeping you alive. Part of it still doesn’t seem real. WTF is Myocarditis anyway? People still ask and I do a piss poor job of trying to explain it. All I know is that is the only thing I can blame for taking my best friend. I’ve gotten over blaming God for it. I’ve gotten over the guilt of thinking it should have been me.
I thought I would die shortly after you. If you could die of a broken heart, I would have. Part of me thought I wouldn’t make it a year without you. God wouldn’t take the most important person in my life from me. I thought that surely I would die in a car wreck or something soon after. Turns out I was wrong.
Once the fog cleared, I knew the best way to honor your memory would be to keep on truckin, find meaning, live life, be happy. I know that’s what I would want for you if you were here and I was gone.
I miss our freestyle rap group “No dead space” (shout out to Eddie, one of the original members), jumping on the trampoline for hours listening to Sublime, our late night chats on the porch swing in high school after parties, and playing wingman. Remember that crazy old man in Costa Rica (Rocky) and all the times when we tried to explain to people that we were besties and not sleeping together. Funny how no one seemed to understand but us.
I will always remember our wild stints in Costa Rica, cruising around Dallas late night, watching the Breakfast Club and Dumb and Dumber a billion times, and looking up at the stars on warm summer nights.
I try not to be sad and feel sorry for myself, but our friendship is like no other and you will never be replaced. I’m still a little bummed that we won’t get to take any more vacations together, our hypothetical children won’t be BFFs, and we won’t be able to sit in our rocking chairs when we are 95 drinking sweet tea while reminiscing about how we were such punk kids.
Tonight I will be drinking way too much Coors light in your honor.
You are my person. My number one. I do my best to be like you and look for the good in people. You are a constant reminder of love and what’s important in life. When life seems tough, I take a breath, think of you, and remember what really matters. I will never forget you or get over you. You are my person. I love you.
Like you always said, “It’s not goodbye. I’ll see you later.”