Dear Matt,
I don't know what to say. "I'm sorry" or
"I wish you hadn't done this" or "I wish I could have helped" are all
somehow insufficient. I mean all of those things from the very bottom of
my heart, but they seem so useless to me. They won't change anything.
And I'm sorry to say, but I know if this hadn't happened I probably
would not be thinking of you now. It's a sad but true fact of life that
we never notice who we should until it's too late. I keep racking my
brain in a vain attempt to remember every interaction we had during high
school, and if I were ever short with you, or irritated, or didn't make
the time for you I should have. I can't remember. It's killing me, but I
can't remember.
What I do remember, Matt, is you were
absolutely one of the sweetest and most enthusiastic kids in the theatre
department. It never mattered whether you were cast or not or what role
you were given, you were up on the stage with a smile. I actually do
remember your auditions for The Wiz and Grease pretty vividly. You were
so dedicated, and it was so evident. Your face was always glowing; you
always looked so pleased to be up there. You always said hello, you
always had a smile and a "how are you?" for me. I'm sorry if there was
ever a time I didn't reciprocate as enthusiastically as I could have,
should have.
I wish I could be there tomorrow. I'm
sorry that I can't be. It seems so wrong, that you should be buried
somewhere underneath cold earth. You're just a kid, Matt. I keep
thinking that. You were just a kid, a nineteen year old kid, and this
shouldn't be the way your story played out. I promise I'll come by when I
come home. I'll bring you flowers. I'm not sure why that's the proper
protocol for visiting a grave, but I think maybe you'll at least
appreciate the gesture. I'd bring you a spotlight if I could, but I'm
not sure how I'd be able to rig it to work.
This will
never be okay. I will never be able to make this make sense, and I will
forever wish...many things. Matt, I wish I wasn't writing this. I wish
so much I wasn't writing
this. I wish someone- anyone- had noticed, had said something, done
something. I wish I had made more of an effort to know you. I wish I
could have done something. I wish I could have reached out to you. I
wish you had reached out. And if you did reach out and didn't find what
you needed...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's so insufficient, and so
useless, but I don't know what else to say. I don't think I will ever be
able to understand why this was the path you chose, why you felt there
was no other option. On some level- some deep, dark place that I have
avoided like the plague for several years now- I remember a place where I
thought there wasn't a way out...but Matt, I wish someone had told you-
and maybe someone did, I don't know- that it gets better. It gets
better. I wish you would have waited to see that. It wasn't worth it,
Matt, but I hope you've found the peace you were looking for, the peace
you were, for some reason I will never comprehend, denied while you were
here. I wish you peace, and happiness, and quiet rest in the arms of
God. I'll see you on the other side.
Love, love, love,
Elizabeth
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