A Letter to Someone Lost

Gillian B

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My Friend, When my seatbelt clicks into place I think of you. We joked too often about not wearing them. I wear mine now, no more jokes. I keep my phone out of sight too; both hands are on the wheel and my focus is undivided. I remember you checking your phone at red lights, saying you’d be quick or asking me to keep an eye on the light for you. I never gave that little action a second thought; nor did I scold you when you bragged about how fast you could go on those curvy mountain roads. I never go over the speed limit now, because of you. What I would give to see your smile again; to hear you laugh over the little things in this life. I wish I could remember what you looked like when you laughed, I regret not paying enough attention to what made you, you. I’d give everything to have a chance to do that, if only I could have that chance. You were unique, and I wish I had cherished our time more. I’m sure everyone that knew you wishes the same. I promise to never forget the considerate things you did, or how much you loved cars, or the care you took while driving with me – if only you had taken that much care every time you were at the wheel. When I pass that road, the one with the corner you always took a little too fast, I am met with a wave of sorrow that no one should have to feel. Goodbye, my friend. I’ll remember from now on that driving, is a privilege and that once gone, a life cannot be regained. Sincerely, Someone missing you