A Letter to Brad, Twenty Years Later

Dear Brad,

I’ll never forget sitting at an outdoor bar in Cancun, Mexico with you, sipping on Long Island Iced Teas in super-sized styrofoam cups.  I was 17 and you were 18. We’d just graduated from high school, and the whole world was out there, waiting for us. I was heading to college at the University of West Florida, and you’d be off for basic training in the Navy soon.

Chatting excitedly about our futures, we imagined where we’d be in 5, 10, and even 20 years down the road. After finishing our drinks, we roamed the outdoor markets, checking out handmade goods from the local artisans. Just the two of us, drunk on tea and excited about the next chapters of our lives. You purchased two sterling silver dolphin rings that day, for your sisters… one for Shelly, and one for Chrissy.  I remember being impressed with your negotiation skills.  How did you even know how to talk those guys down on the price? I wondered. You always seemed to amaze me.

Now, here I am: Typing away on my keyboard as the summer rain pitter patters on the rooftop. I woke up thinking of you this morning, naturally. It’s been 20 years to the day, since you left us. Twenty years since you decided that your life was no longer worth living.

I’m not mad at you for the things you didn’t know. You didn’t know that LIFE DOES GET BETTER. You didn’t know the value of your own self-worth. You didn’t know that your decision was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. You must not have known how much we all loved you. And you couldn’t have possibly known the way your death would affect us.

Or maybe you did know some of these things, but the ‘knowing’ wasn’t enough to keep you here. I get it. I’ve felt this way too, and I know how painful life can be.

On that fateful day in Cancun, when we dreamed about the possibilities, I never imagined that your future would be so short-lived.  Now, 20 years later, I’ve finally accepted what is. I’m no longer resisting what happened, because clearly, we can’t change the past. But we can pave the way for a brighter future.

I’m writing a book to share our stories, Brad. I’m writing a book, and it will be dedicated to you… my guardian angel. In our memories and in our hearts is where you’ll always live now.

I love you,
Abby