An Open Letter To My Best Friend On Her Worst Day

I’m sorry this happened. I can’t take your pain, though I wish I could. I can’t change what happened, I can’t make it better. I can’t do much of anything but be there, so I’ll do as much of that as I can.

There’s not a soul on this planet that knows how you specifically feel right now. I want to start with that. Your emotions, your memories, your experiences are your own. But there’s power in that too. You may not feel like it yet, but one day you will. Whenever you’re ready.

As you take your first steps on the long road ahead, there are few things I want you to know.

I want you to remember how many of us are supporting you. Whatever you need, however you need it. We love you, we care about you, and we’re ready to help you process and heal. It might take some time, longer than you want, but we are here for every second. We’re here for every tear that falls, for every bruise that heals, and every scream you have to let loose into the empty space around you. We’re here for it all, no questions asked.

I want you to know it’s important to be selfish right now. You need to focus on healing up, on processing things, and on readjusting your life to your  new reality. You don’t need to be there for anyone else right now—we can handle ourselves. You are the priority. You are the focus. You do not need to feel guilty about that. 

I want you to know it is okay to change. Things like this alter a person in some ways for the rest of their lives, and that is okay. You can be different after this. You don’t owe anyone anything from your past self. You’re going to stretch and grow and heal, and that will make things look different for you. The new you, whoever she ends up being, is going to be incredible and wonderful, and I truly look forward to meeting her.

I want you to know you can do this. You can move on because you’re strong and powerful, but you’re so much more than that. You’re the sunlight that streams in my window on a Saturday morning. You’re the hug at an airport after months of being apart. You’re the chorus to my favorite song. You’re that piece of art that makes me cry. You’re everything and everywhere, and one day you’ll be able to burst out of your current cloud and occupy that space again. Take your time getting there, but just know that you can.

I wish I could pick up this burden from you, but I can’t. That’s not how grief works. Though it shouldn’t be your burden to bear, it will be with you. But I’m here. There are others here. We love you more than we can ever say, and we will do all that we can to help.

You’re a fighter, you’re a powerhouse of a person, and you’ve got this.