I Remember

Hi Jamie,

It's November again. I'm running around, working and getting ready for holiday dinner. My brain has been jumping around on so many things and this time of year has snuck up on me...again.

Every November 25th, I'm hit with your memory and I find myself sobbing. Two days before Thanksgiving, I'll be working on something and I'll suddenly remember you. We buried you on November 26, 2003

Every November, the week of Thanksgiving, I remember the last time I saw you.  I remember the last conversation we had.

The last time I saw you, you were working the checkout counter, at the Cone gas station diesel fuel isle. The day I'd stopped by was the first time I'd seen you in months. I had been avoiding you.

It wasn't your fault, it was because I was afraid to run into my ex-boyfriend. You two had been friends since high school and I knew he hung out a lot at your place with you and Larry. And it seemed that every time I drove past your work, his car would be there. I guess I could have called, but I was scared that you'd be mad at me for the breakup with Matt. You had introduce us and he was one of your closest friends.

The day I stopped, I was on my way to somewhere else and I didn't have a lot of time. When I saw that his car wasn't there, I pulled into the parking lot. I ran back to your counter. I remember you looked a little surprised to see me.

I don't remember how the conversation started and I don't remember most of what we talked about. I vaguely remember telling you why I hadn't been coming around and why I hadn't called. You understood.

Sometimes when I think back to this conversation, I remember asking you if you were angry at me  and I remember you saying that the breakup was between me and Matt. You weren't mad at either of us. But I'm not sure this really happened because I've relived that last conversation every year since your death and the conversation changes in my memory.

I do remember that my eyes kept darting to the clock. Someone was waiting for me and I had to go. I apologized for not being able to stay.  You understood.

I said goodbye and turned to leave. I got three steps and turned back around.

My memory isn't the best, but I remember clear as day what I said. I asked you if you knew that I loved you. You smiled and said that you did and then you said that you loved me too. I remember smiling and then leaving.

People tell me that our last conversation was what it should have been.

But every year, Thanksgiving week, I'm suddenly struck with the memory that in November we lost you. We buried you on November 26, 2003. And the last thing I said to you was the best thing I could have said, but in my heart I will never feel like it was enough. And every year, during this week, I break down.

You stood by me during a dark time. You were there when I cried. You were always there to give me advice. And every November, I remember that you're gone.

What else is there to say?

I love you still.